


The One Where Logan Is A Dog

by Anonymous



Category: X-Men (Movies)
Genre: Accidental Penis injury, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, Anal Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bestiality, Bottom!Erik, Butt Plugs, Charles You Slut, Charles You Will Be Drunk, Cock Rings, Comeplay, DOG FUCKING, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Dirty Talk, Dogs, Emotionally Crippled Erik, Humiliation, Light Bondage, Logan is A Rottweiler, M/M, Other, Past Abuse, Recreational Drug Use, Riding Crops, Rimming, Rough Sex, Smut, Vibrators, Vomiting, references to past abuse, this is very very dirty, top!Charles, top!Logan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-06
Updated: 2016-02-13
Packaged: 2018-04-25 05:12:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 59,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4947991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Erik can't relate to people, so on the advice of his therapist he gets a dog. He becomes <i>extremely</i> close to his dog, which is unfortunate considering his nosy, persistent, and annoyingly attractive new neighbor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Logan

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [The One Where Logan Is A Dog](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5653405) by [shamelove](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shamelove/pseuds/shamelove)



> PLEASE READ TAGS CAREFULLY. If this not your cup of tea, don't read the story! 
> 
> Beta'd by the wonderful [REDACTED]! They know who they are!! ;)

Erik glared at the puppies as if they had personally offended him. He didn't need a fucking puppy. He didn't want a fucking puppy. He didn't want a pet at all, but his therapist Moira had insisted that he should at least try to find a pet he could connect with. She said it would be good for him. Like she fucking knew what would be good for him.

Erik crossed his arms and scowled at a labrador puppy who was chasing his own tail. _Too dumb,_ Erik thought dismissively. He wasn't under any illusion that he would be going home with a pet that day, but cooperating with his therapist was one of the terms of his probation. 

At least Moira had known the words to say to him to convince him to at least consider getting a puppy. He had gruffly said that his building didn't allow pets when she first suggested the 'pet' idea, and she said she would write him a physician's recommendation for a companion animal, and the landlord would have no choice but to accept that. Erik felt mollified because generally anything that fucked over authority couldn't be that bad, although he'd never had trouble with the company that managed his building. He was generally quiet...except when he wasn't, of course. 

But the last time he'd had an incident had been a long time ago. Erik realized he was zoning out, staring at the puppies, as he wandered along the row of cages. Besides the two cages full of puppies, there was a wide variety of older dogs available with nothing in common except they all looked vaguely sad. He didn't like how it reminded him of jail and had just decided to leave and tell Moira that she could shove her pet idea when he reached the end of the aisle, where the light was very dim. The last cage didn't seem to have a dog in it at all, but Erik realized there was one in the shadow when he saw eyes gleaming at him. 

"Don't want to be on display, huh?" Erik said softly. "I don't blame you."

The dog lifted its head like it was surprised. It stood up and walked the foot or so over to Erik. Erik could see that the dog was a black and tan Rottweiler, thick and stout. Not a puppy, although he had no way of telling how old he was. The dog sat and they made eye contact for a few moments. Erik wondered if this was some kind of threat—he'd never had a dog before, but he'd read something like that about eye contact with dogs—when the dog abruptly whined softly and thumped his tail twice. 

"Oh, it looks like Logan likes you," a woman said at his elbow. She was one of the shelter volunteers, a plump woman with a Minnesota accent who looked a little bit like Melissa McCarthy. 

Erik hadn't had any idea that someone else was standing behind him and he forced himself not to overreact by gritting his teeth and clenching his fists. The dog cocked its head at him.

"Logan doesn't like _anyone,_ " the woman continued enthusiastically. "He's really aggressive. Keeps fighting with the other dogs. We think he was owned by a dogfighter before, poor thing. He sure seems to like you though! If you want, you can come pick him up next week? He's scheduled to be fixed on Monday, assuming he doesn't have a chip. Our chipreader is broken, unfortunately, but it will be fixed soon. But anyway, I'm sure they will waive the adoption fee! Except, oh dear...you don't have any other pets, do you?"

"Fixed," Erik repeated. He was looking at the dog thoughtfully. He felt like they had something in common. Not that Erik had been forced to fight, but he knew what it was like to be deemed "too aggressive" and relegated to the darkest cell. 

No. He wasn't going to go there. 

"I don't want him fixed," Erik said. "I want him the way he is." He reached his fingers through the cyclone fencing and Logan sniffed his fingers, then licked them once. 

The woman was making distressed noises, and Erik turned his head to scowl at her. "Oh, no, we couldn't do that! It's not as terrible as it sounds, honey. He'll be happier without all that aggression."

Erik looked at Logan again, who had sat down on his haunches. He made a small whining sound when Erik looked at him. 

At the far end of the enclosure, a puppy yelped loudly and then a child shrieked. The plump woman startled. "Oh dear, those children are taunting the puppies. Excuse me, honey, I'll be right back." She started walking quickly away. 

Erik looked at Logan again and saw that the cage's locking mechanism was a simple sliding piece of metal. 

And the back door was right next to Logan's cage. 

Before he thought about it too much, he unlocked Logan's cage and opened the door. "Come on, Logan," he said, and the Rottweiler exited the cage and followed him out the back door without hesitating. 

They were in his Honda and pulling out of the parking lot before the woman came out of the reception area, gesticulating at him angrily. He waved to her and grinned as Logan barked once out the window. 

**

Erik didn't want to tell Moira about Logan, mostly because he didn't want her to be right. At the same time, Erik was slowly becoming convinced that Logan was the most awesome dog that ever lived, and it was harder and harder for him to keep that secret. Erik understood why the lady at the shelter had called Logan aggressive; he growled at other people all the time. But he never growled at Erik, and it kept people away from both of them when he took Logan for walks, and Erik appreciated that. He could talk to Logan about anything, and Logan never judged him or yelled at him or argued with him. 

Logan did tend to destroy things when he was left at home alone while Erik was at work, but Erik could understand that, and he thought he would probably do the same if he was left alone for eight hours everyday. Erik didn't care about the destroyed property; he wasn't very invested in his physical possessions, for the most part. Logan had chewed up the arms and upholstery of the couch but it had been an old couch anyway. Erik just threw a blanket over it when they wanted to watch TV. 

He nearly lost his temper when he came home one day to find a three-day notice to perform on his front door telling him he needed to "rehome his unauthorized pet." He managed to keep it in check only because Logan was there, and Erik didn't want to risk hurting his dog. 

He recited the alphabet backwards to himself and suddenly realized—there was a solution. He just had to tell Moira and get that physician's recommendation. He thought he could deal with her smugness for that.

**

"So you've had this dog for a month," Moira said speculatively. "How do you feel?"

Erik shrugged sullenly. "Better, I guess."

"What do you and the dog do?"

"His name's Logan, not 'the dog'," Erik said, with a touch of belligerence. "We go for walks. We go to the dog park. We watch TV. He's my—" Erik had been about to say 'best friend,' but swallowed it because he didn't want Moira to take that the wrong way. 

"He listens to you," Moira said, watching him intently. It was a guess, but she said it like a statement.

"Yeah. He's...I really like him." Erik remembered why he had decided to tell Moira about Logan. "I think I need him. I didn't lose my temper the other day when I found that notice because I didn't want to risk hurting him."

Moira raised her eyebrows and looked pleased. "That's good. Do you want me to write a physician's recommendation that you keep him?"

Erik nodded, finding it hard to look her in the eye. He missed Logan suddenly, which was silly, because he had seen the dog not an hour ago. But Logan being around gave him something to focus on, something to do, when he was otherwise expected to interact with people. 

"Have you heard from Magda?" Moira asked. 

Anger flared in Erik's chest, white hot. "No," he gritted out. "Don't you think I would have mentioned it, if I had?"

Moira studied Erik, unsurprised by his defensive reaction. "Probably not."

Erik had married his high school sweetheart the month they both graduated high school, and they'd had a baby not quite a year after that. But Anya had died of SIDS when she was six months old. Erik had destroyed their apartment in his anger and grief, and Magda had consequently called the police. Erik had been arrested and served nine months for vandalism, destruction of property, and resisting arrest (because a good public defender had argued it down from assaulting a police officer). By the time he had gotten out of jail, Magda was long gone, no trace of her anywhere.

"Do you think about her?" Moira persisted. "For almost four years of your life, she was the only person who meant anything to you, isn't that what you told me?"

In a moment of weakness, yes, Erik had told Moira that. He regretted it now, though. He didn't understand why Moira tugged at the most painful of his memories. He worked hard not to let the loose ends show, but Moira would find them and pull on them until he felt like he was going to unravel. "I don't think about her," Erik said, and that was true. He didn't think about Anya, either. 

But for some reason his fists were clenched so tight that his fingernails were cutting into his palms. He made a conscious effort to relax. He was okay. He had his youth; he was no longer imprisoned; he had a great dog; he was okay. 

Moira was watching him carefully. "Good," she said softly. "Erik, you are doing well. I'm glad you and Logan found each other. Just keep in mind that a dog is not a substitute for a human being, okay? Next time, let's talk about some ways that you and Logan could meet other people."

Erik grunted noncommittally. As soon as Moira had written the letter and made several copies of it, he took two copies and was out the door, eager to get back home to Logan. 

**

The property mangement company was definitely not happy about the dog situation (Erik thought someone might have seen what Logan had done to the wooden kitchen cabinets), but they let him keep Logan because they apparently had to.

Life was good, actually. His job sucked (he was a sanitation worker) but it paid his bills and Erik was happier than he could ever remember being. His mind betrayed him the moment he had that thought, by recalling a memory of lifting up little Anya and hearing her bubbly laughter as he cooed at her and rubbed his face on her soft tummy. He forced the vision from his mind. So maybe he had been happier once or twice before, but his life now was still better than his crappy childhood, being shuttled from foster home to foster home, every foster parent claiming they couldn't deal with him. 

There was only one thing missing, something gnawing at Erik, something he had realized he wanted sometime during his incarceration. 

He wanted to be fucked. He wanted to be fucked hard and rough, preferably by someone with a huge dick. He didn't just want it; he craved it. It shouldn't have been that hard to find someone, but he was picky. He tended to attract pretty boys when he went to gay bars, men who thought he was a top, and Erik didn't have the language or social cues to tell them that he wasn't interested. He tended to give off a threatening, hostile vibe even when he wasn't trying to. And when Erik did find the kind of men he wanted to fuck him...he didn't know what to say. He didn't know how to make it happen. It had happened a few times, but it was harder than he thought it should be to find someone who would give him the anonymous hard fucking that he wanted and then get the hell out. 

So he would go and sit at bars and eye the men he wanted and go home alone, most nights. He tried to simulate what he wanted at home, fucking himself with a huge dildo, but it wasn't the same. 

Still, he often left the dildo in his ass while he put on some porn and jerked off. He was doing that one evening, perched carefully on the edge of his chair at the little desk in his bedroom, when the bedroom door creaked open and Erik heard the tell-tale clacking of Logan's nails on the hardwood floor. "Not right now, buddy," he panted, eyes glued to his laptop, watching a huge hairy man fuck another man who was only slightly less hairy.

Logan sat next to Erik, where he looked at him curiously, his head tilted to the side. 

Erik had to chuckle a little at his expression, despite how inappropriate it was. "Can't you see I'm busy?" he grunted. 

Logan shuffled closer, resting his head on Erik's bare thigh. Erik looked down at him in surprise just as Logan licked Erik's cock. 

Erik jumped back in shock and inadvertently jammed the dildo farther in when he landed on it. "Aw, fuck," he gasped, trying to carefully move forward and pull himself to his feet.

Logan took the opportunity to lick his cock again. 

"Logan, stop," Erik said, irritably. He braced his arms on either side of the chair and started to carefully push himself up, moving carefully because he didn't know how badly he had hurt himself with the dildo.

Logan moved in front of him and started licking his balls. 

Erik gasped because he suddenly felt terrifyingly, arousingly stuck. His arms were tensed with the effort of holding himself up. Logan's tongue was soft but still strong and it felt embarrassingly good and sapped the strength from his arms. "Uunngg, fuck," he gasped. 

Logan seemed to feel encouraged by that and started licking more—all over Erik's balls and his cock. 

Erik knew he should shut his legs. He should push Logan away, or at least yell at him. But it felt good, really good. In fact, it felt better than anything had in a long time. And feeling slightly ashamed of letting his dog do this to him actually made it feel more exciting. 

Erik gripped the arms of the chair and groaned loudly because, fuck, it felt good, and he was so close, but he wasn't going to come just from being licked. He needed a grip, something firm and encompassing, to actually get off. 

Finally he closed his legs enough that Logan backed off and Erik could carefully lower himself. Logan was pacing and whining, but Erik was finally able to stand and pull out that damn dildo. He didn't seem to be that hurt after all; he was a little sore, but he supposed he had been more surprised than anything else. 

Erik brought the dildo to his bathroom sink for later washing. Logan followed him, still anxious and whining, occasionally jumping up against his legs.

Erik's cock was still hard as a rock, and he really wanted to get off. "Why don't you have hands?" he asked Logan. 

Logan licked his thigh and whined. He went up on his hind legs, trying to reach Erik's cock, but he was too short. Nevertheless, with his front legs up, Erik saw something that made him have to take a second look. He caught Logan's paws the next time he tried to climb Erik's legs and took a good look.

About an inch of pink dog penis was out of its furry sheath, and it was far thicker than Erik thought would be proportional to the size of his dog. 

Erik couldn't help the thought that crossed his mind: _Logan didn't have hands, but he did have a cock._ And it was a big one.

Erik licked his lips, his mouth suddenly dry. He was a terrible person for considering this, he knew. But he wanted to come so bad it was blinding him, and Logan certainly seemed...interested. 

Erik walked over to his bed and sat down on the side. "Logan," he said softly. 

Logan immediately jumped on the bed next to him. Erik lay back and Logan wasted no time licking his cock and balls again. 

Lying down, Erik was better able to relax, although he was still far from orgasm. Logan started licking under his balls, his curious tongue delving, and it only felt natural for Erik to lift and open his legs so Logan could get to that interesting smell he was pursuing. When his long tongue brushed over Erik's stretched anus, he jumped at the sensation. Logan paid his reaction no mind, licking more and deeper, his tongue curling inside Erik. 

Logan abruptly stopped and whined at Erik. He knocked a paw against Erik's side impatiently. He licked at Erik's hole a few more times and then pushed at him with his paw again. 

"You want..." Erik abruptly realized what he wanted and his face flushed with shame and arousal. He wanted Erik to turn over. Erik swallowed and turned over, all the while having the surreal sense that this couldn't actually be happening. 

Logan immediately tried to mount him, has back claws scrabbling against Erik's calves. Erik shuddered with a combination of arousal and revulsion as he could feel the wet end of Logan's cock jabbing up against the back of his thighs and his balls. 

"You're not tall enough," Erik realized as he said it, and bent his knees up more under himself. This saved the back of his legs from Logan's claws, because they had scratched him hard enough Erik thought he might actually be bleeding in a couple places. But the new position brought his ass low enough for Logan to reach. On Logan's third jab after Erik had changed positions, he felt the tip of Logan's penis enter him and the dog went crazy then, his hips pistoning and penetrating Erik further each time. 

It was rough and nasty and perfect. Erik grabbed his headboard for dear life. Logan was not a tall dog but he was dense and compact and _fuck_ his cock was big...and he was not wasting any time. Erik cried out a gravelly yell of pleasure and pain combined when he realized that Logan's cock had knotted in his ass, and the knot was pressing right up against Erik's prostate, making him nearly see stars. He reached for his cock and roughly jerked off until he came a few moments later with an explosion that forced Logan's diminishing knot out of his ass.

He didn't exactly lose consciousness, but Erik was very out of it for a few moments after that. When he became aware again, he was lying in a puddle of his own semen while Logan was on the bed next to him, licking at his own cock. 

"Christ you've got a big dick," Erik rasped, his voice parched. Logan looked up at him and thumped his tail against the bed twice before returning to what he had been doing. 

Erik slept better that night than he had in years.


	2. Charles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning in end notes

Erik woke up the next morning feeling like he'd slept better than he had in years. Logan was no longer on the bed next to him, but he liked to look out the living room window at the birds in the mornings, so that wasn't unusual. 

Erik thought about what had happened the night before with Logan as he went into the living room and started to make coffee. Fortunately, it was a Saturday, and he didn't have to work. Logan looked up at him and wagged his tail a couple times; his typical morning greeting. 

"Normally, I'd be having an awkward conversation with the guy right now," he said aloud. Logan looked at him but just wagged his tail more. When he finished his coffee, it was time to walk Logan. Erik got out his leash and Logan walked over the him, the same as usual. Nothing different. 

Bemused, Erik took Logan out the front door. He was just locking it behind him when he heard, "Hello, neighbor! You're up early!"

Erik had an unpleasant expression already plastered on his face by the time he turned around to face the voice. "Morning," he grunted, but the man had already knelt down in front of Logan and wasn't paying Erik the slightest attention. 

"What a cute widdle puppy-doggy!" The brown-haired man exclaimed. He had a slight British accent and he spoke in a baby voice to Logan. "Are you the cutest? Yes you are. Yes you are!" 

Erik deliberately did not yank Logan's leash, waiting for the dog to growl or snap at the British man. But he licked the man's face instead. 

"Logan," Erik hissed. Logan looked up at Erik and wagged his tail excitedly. He jumped and landed heavily on his front paws, with his head down, and barked. 

"Oh, he wants to play," the other man said delightedly.

Over Erik's dead body. "No," he said flatly. "Come on, Logan." 

Logan obediently started to follow Erik down the hall, when the other man ran around and in front of Erik, blocking his path. "Wait! I didn't get a chance to introduce myself. I'm your new neighbor, Charles Xavier." He grinned and stuck out his right hand expectantly. 

Erik had a leash in one hand and a plastic baggy in the other. He looked pointedly at his occupied hands, then at the man for a moment. Not bad-looking, and for some reason vaguely familiar, but not Erik's type. "No," he said flatly, moving around the other man. 

"But..." The man looked thoroughly confused and didn't say anything else as Erik and Logan walked around him down the hall and out the door to the outside. 

"Traitor," Erik muttered to Logan once they were safely on the other side of the street from Erik's building. "You hate everybody but _that_ guy?" Logan barked once, wagging his tail. 

He did his business and then Erik let him off his leash (against local ordinance, but Erik didn't think there was much chance of him getting caught) to chase birds. 

"Maybe you're just in a good mood today," he said to Logan when the dog came to the bench Erik was sitting on, panting. Logan wagged his tail, panting happily.

"I'm in a pretty good mood, too," Erik said thoughtfully. His ass was a little sore, but in a good way. A way that Erik liked. 

**

Erik had just stuck his key in his front door when his neighbor's door opened. "E. Lehnsherr," the man said proudly. His cheeks were flushed and smelled faintly of whiskey. 

Erik raised an eyebrow at him and didn't say anything. Logan woofed happily and went over to the other man.

"Well hello, you cute little girl," Xavier exclaimed, kneeling down and scratching behind Logan's ears. 

"He's male," Erik said sharply. "And don't do that." The lock was sticking for some reason, and Erik cursed under his breath.

The man—Xavier, Erik recalled—snapped his head up in surprise at Erik's tone. He blinked and stood up. "I remembered where I've seen you before," he said quietly, stepping close to Erik. "It was at _Not Wrong_. The gay bar. Right?"

Erik stopped trying to force his lock to work and studied Xavier for a moment, searching his memory simultaneously. "It's possible," he conceded. 

Xavier's eyes widened and he grinned triumphantly. "That's very good news. Would you like to go with me sometime?"

Erik turned back to his door and finally got the lock to turn. He opened the door with a relieved grunt before he answered Xavier. "No thanks. I don't do that anymore."

"You don't...?" Xavier stood in the doorway after Erik and Logan walked inside. It was a little too close for Erik's comfort. "...you mean you stopped drinking?"

"No," Erik said, starting to close the door. Xavier actually stuck his foot in the door to keep it from closing. Erik sighed. 

"At least tell me your first name?" the man implored, looking at Erik with stupidly blue eyes. 

"It's Erik," Erik said right before he pushed Xavier's foot out with his own and shut the door. 

**

The next morning Erik woke with his dick hard and Logan asleep on the bed next to him. Neither situation was unusual, but while he would normally kick Logan out before he took care of himself, he thought he would let Logan stay. He opened the drawer in his nightstand and got some lotion to ease the friction, kicked off the covers and started stroking himself. 

The idea of looking at Logan felt weird, so he closed his eyes and pictured what he usually did—being roughly fucked by a faceless stranger. The face of his new neighbor kept appearing to him and he frowned and gripped his cock harder. He didn't want to think about someone like him, someone who...who...

Erik couldn't think about anything really that objectionable about his neighbor, except that he'd wanted to know Erik's name. Then he thought that objecting to someone on the basis of their wanting to know Erik's name might be going a little too far. Unfortunately, by that point he'd lost his erection. 

He sighed and turned his head towards Logan. "You interested?" he asked, half-joking. 

Logan sniffed in Erik's direction and then put a paw over his nose. 

Erik huffed out a laugh. He held out a lotiony hand to Logan and Logan stood up and backed away, still pawing at his nose. "You don't like the smell of the lotion," Erik guessed. Logan jumped off the bed. Erik tried to finish but he had lost his erection. He sighed and rolled out of bed to shower. 

He wondered, as he showered, if the sex with Logan had a been a fluke. He had been using a different lube when Logan had first walked in on him, some packet of something he'd picked up at _Not Wrong_ , but he'd used it all. Apparently Logan hadn't objected to _that_ lube, though. 

By the time he got out of the shower, he'd had an idea. He had some peanut butter in the back of his refrigerator, which was fortunately the creamy kind. He scooped some onto his index finger. "Hey, Logan."

Logan stood up and walked over to Erik, his tail held high in expectation. Erik held his finger out to the dog and the dog licked it eagerly, and kept licking until it was gone. He wagged his tail and looked up at Erik hopefully. 

"Okay then," Erik said. He walked to his bedroom with the jar of peanut butter, and Logan was close behind him.

The peanut butter worked in that Logan happily and thoroughly licked everything he put the peanut butter on. The experience was ultimately still frustrating for Erik because even though Logan had been licking Erik's cock and balls and asshole steadily for over an hour, getting up only once to get water, the minute Erik tried to prepare himself with some of the lotion from his nightstand, Logan backed away, pawing at his nose. 

Erik huffed in frustration. He couldn't bring himself to try using the actual peanut butter as lube; it was too thick. The licking felt incredibly good but he wasn't going to get off from that alone, and—he could admit it—he wanted Logan to fuck him again. 

After Logan eventually wandered off, Erik finally managed to come by jerking himself off with a disgusting-smelling but appropriately viscous combination of peanut butter and lotion. He woke up in a sticky mess a little while later feeling vaguely dissatisfied and realized that he needed to solve the lube situation if he wanted Logan to fuck him again. 

**

Normally he just picked up whatever free lube samples were on offer at the gay bar, but Erik went to an actual adult novelty store for what he was looking for. He perused the lube selection with a baseball hat pulled down over his face. When he couldn't find what he was looking for, he reluctantly approached the cashier and cleared his throat. The young woman in a halter top with tattooed shoulders gave him a bored expectant look. "Can I help you find something?" she asked. 

"Do you have any lube that's peanut-butter flavored?" Erik asked, in a voice only loud enough to be heard by her. 

"No," she said immediately. "Nobody makes that. But you could use butter."

Erik thought butter-flavored lube would probably be acceptable to Logan, although he hadn't seen that on the shelf either. "Do you have any in stock?"

She gave him a puzzled look. "Butter?"

"Butter-flavored lube," Erik clarified. 

"No, I meant, you can use actual butter," she said. "I mean, if you are doing what I think you are doing." She continued to look at him steadily and expressionlessly. 

Erik felt his face flushing with shame and was glad he had the hat to hide his face. "It's not—" he started to say. "My, uh, lover...we just wanted..."

"Uh-huh," she said, clearly not buying it and faintly amused.

He left the store without another word to the clerk, thinking only about getting away. 

He did stop to buy a large tub of butter before he got home, though. 

His new neighbor walked out of his apartment just as Erik was walking up to his. "Oh, hello, Erik," the man said with a smile. 

Erik grunted. His lock was being sticky again, unfortunately. 

"I think we got off on the wrong foot," the insufferable man continued. "I owe you an apology."

The lock finally turned. Erik turned to the man incredulously. "You don't need to..." He sighed. "Look. I'm an asshole. And that's not an apology, it's just a fact. I'm not sure what you are trying to...accomplish, but: don't. I'm not interested."

Xavier's smile dimmed slightly at Erik's words, but was still there. "That's the most words you've ever said to me at one time."

Erik's temper started to rise. "What's wrong with you?" he snapped. "What part of 'I'm not interested' don't you understand?"

Xavier finally stopped smiling. "You don't even..." He trailed off, and a defeated expression crossed his face. "Fine. I'm sorry."

Telling himself that the twist in his gut was from something he ate earlier that day, Erik went inside his apartment. 

**

The butter worked like a dream. Logan liked it as much if not better than peanut butter, and it was slippery enough that Erik could work it in his ass. When Erik turned over, Logan eagerly mounted him right away and it was just as good a fuck as it had been before. Erik found himself clutching his headboard and yelling hoarsely as Logan's too-sharp claws scratched at his back and his cock pounded into him, fast and inconsiderate, exactly the way Erik wanted it. 

When Logan knotted inside him, panting with exertion, it felt even bigger than it had the time before, and Erik couldn't stop keening with both pain and pleasure. It was the best fuck of his life, he thought deliriously. After a moment Logan turned, dragging one of his back legs across Erik's back. Erik braced himself for the dog to try pulling out but he just stayed there, ass to ass with Erik, still knotted inside him. 

Erik moved enough that he could reach his cock and jerked himself off roughly, both hotly ashamed and aroused by the thought that his dog's cock was stuck inside him. He came hard, but not enough to push Logan out, and Erik gritted his teeth against the sensation until Logan finally pulled out a minute or two later. The dog immediately turned and sniffed at Erik's hole, which was leaking a combination of butter and dog semen, and started licking it. 

Erik was oversensitized and he cried out, but he couldn't bring himself to tell Logan to stop. It was exactly what Erik craved...pure animal instinct, with sensation pushing all thought out of his head. When Logan finally stopped a few minutes later, Erik stretched his legs out flat, wincing at the cramping in his hips, and again fell asleep in the sticky mess beneath him. 

**

Erik normally did laundry on the weekends, but considering that his only two sets of sheets were now covered with some combination of peanut butter, lotion, butter, and the semen of two different species, he went to the apartment laundry room very late the next night after spending one night mildly uncomfortable night sleeping with no sheets on his bed. 

He had almost finished putting the sheets in the washer when Xavier walked in, carrying a laundry basket. Erik's cheeks flushed and he started pushing the sheets in faster. 

Xavier stopped short. "Oh," he said in surprise. "I didn't—wait, is that peanut butter?"

Erik pressed his lips together and did not respond or look at Xavier. 

After a moment, Xavier let out a derisive laugh. "Kinky," he said dryly. He brushed past Erik to get to the one other washing machine. "You know, you could have just told me you have a boyfriend," he commented casually, starting to load his machine. 

"I don't have a boyfriend," Erik growled, before he realized that may not have been the best thing to say.

Xavier raised an eyebrow at him. "Really? Does that mean you’re paying men to fuck you into the wall every night?"

Erik had Xavier's shirt clenched in his left fist before he realized what he was doing. He scowled down at Xavier, who looked much less disturbed by the action than Erik wanted him to be. He blinked glassy eyes and licked his too-red lips while Erik's hand was fisted in his shirt. Erik said the alphabet backwards in his mind as he slowly released the other man's shirt. "My sex life is none of your business," he finally muttered.

"More's the pity," Xavier said, smiling slightly, seeming not at all intimidated by Erik. 

"Do you get off on getting your ass kicked?" Erik demanded. "Because that's what is going to happen if you don't leave me the fuck alone."

Xavier shrugged. "It wouldn't be the worst thing that ever happened to me."

Erik frowned at the darkness that suddenly colored the man's voice. It tugged at his gut in the same way it had a few days before; a way that made Erik feel slightly sick. 

Erik took a step back. “Why are you so persistent?” he asked, scowling in confusion and frustration.

“Why are you so resistant?” Xavier countered. When Erik made a disgusted sound and turned to go, Xavier spoke again. “How do you know I’m not exactly what you need?”

Erik knew he should be leaving, but he wanted to put Xavier in his place, to wipe that smug grin off his face. “You aren’t my type.”

Unexpectedly, Xavier smirked. “Well, you are mine.”

“Unbelievable,” Erik said, finally leaving the laundry room. 

He couldn’t bear the thought of running into Xavier again, so he resigned himself to another sheet-less night and set his alarm to wake him at 5am, planning to put his sheets in the dryer then. But when he got to the laundry room early the next morning, his sheets were dried and folded and waiting in his laundry basket with a note. 

_I’m sorry. I get obnoxious when I drink. Can I make it up to you with dinner?_

_\--Charles_

Erik didn’t know whether to laugh or hit something. Accepting the man’s dinner invitation was out of the question, of course, but Erik couldn’t understand why he let the man get under his skin at all. He decided to talk to Moira about it at his next therapy appointment. 

**

“So what do you think your neighbor wants from you?” Moira asked, when Erik brought up the man to her a few days later. 

Erik shrugged. “I don’t know. He offered dinner—I don’t know if he meant a restaurant or cooking—and he mentioned going with him to the bar once.”

Moira nodded. “You told me both those things. Those are the facts. But what do you think—or fear—that he wants?”

“I’m not afraid,” Erik countered automatically, but he chewed on his lip as he thought about Moira’s question. “I think he wants me to fuck him.”

“And that’s a problem because you’re not attracted to him?” Moira guessed. 

Erik frowned and shifted uncomfortably. If he was being completely honest with himself, he _was_ attracted to Xavier, but that didn’t make sense to Erik because…”He’s not my type,” Erik finally said. 

Moira was too perceptive to buy that, though. “It sounds like you might not be sure about that.”

Erik made a frustrated growl in the back of his throat. “He can’t give me—I don’t see him being able to...give me what I need,” Erik was not fully comfortable putting his need to get fucked hard by strangers in words to Moira. She would probably suss it out of him, though, so he added something that should put her on the defensive. “He reminds me of you, a little bit.”

Moira smiled unexpectedly. “Nice try, Erik, but I already know I’m not your type. Let’s explore that though. How does he remind you of me?”

“Because he’s pushy,” Erik said, for once answering honestly, without feeling the need to worry about how Moira would interpret it. 

Moira nodded. “Because he’s interested in you, and he won’t let your attitude scare him away?”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

Moira was silent a moment. Erik stared determinedly at his knees. “And you can’t stand that, the way you can’t stand me?” she asked lightly, a hint of teasing in her tone. 

Part of a smile might have threatened the corner of Erik’s mouth. “You’re alright.”

“Oh, stop, you’ll give me a swelled head,” she teased. Erik actually smiled at that, although he didn’t look at her. 

There was a moment of silence before she spoke again. “Maybe your neighbor is alright, too.”

Erik didn’t say anything else until the time ran out on their session. 

**

Erik felt like he needed a good hard fucking after his session—a not-infrequent feeling he had after sessions with Moira—and he wished there was a way to ask Logan to be rougher with him. As he spread butter liberally all over his genitals and pushed a pat up his ass that would melt slowly, he imagined that he was being forced, imagined that someone was humiliating Erik by forcing him to fuck a dog. 

That thought was walking a fine line, Erik knew, although he didn’t want to think about why. He let Logan lick him and he got lost in the feeling, that large soft tongue working him insistently, with occasional nips that jolted Erik but which also added to the combined feelings of excitement, humiliation, and danger that was so intoxicating to him. 

When Logan pawed at his hip and whined, Erik turned over and pulled his knees up under him in the pose that worked best for his dog’s short stature and Logan mounted him immediately. Something about it made Erik remember the first time he’d been taken this way—

No, he couldn’t let his mind go there. Erik squeezed his eyes shut and focused on the dog’s cock in his ass, the claws scrabbling on his back, scratching him in the way he _wanted_ to be scratched, he wanted it, because that gave him the control that was taken from him when—

Erik suddenly needed it to stop. “Stop,” he said weakly, but of course Logan didn’t. “Stop," he said louder, pushing back. Logan still continued thrusting and panting like a dumb animal. 

Erik bucked and his head hit the headboard. “Goddamn it, _STOP,_ ” he yelled, kicking back and turning over. 

Logan slid off the bed when Erik kicked him, landing heavily on the hardwood floor. He whined and walked around the bed a few times, his claws clicking against the floor.

Erik felt guilty for how he’d treated Logan, but he was also shuddering with the sensation of _wrongness_ that had suddenly ripped through his body and precipitated this...a memory he had tried to push back, the first time he had been fucked, against his will, in jail. 

Someone started pounding on Erik’s front door. 

He knew immediately who it was and he groaned, turning on his side and into the fetal position. He didn’t want to deal with his nosy neighbor now. He could hear his name being called and ignored it, but when he heard the word police he leapt out of bed with a gasp. He hastily grabbed a towel and ran to open his front door. 

Xavier was standing there with his phone held up to his ear. He jolted when Erik opened the door. “Erik! Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” Erik said through gritted teeth, although he felt far from fine. He felt nauseated and clammy-skinned, but he forced himself to stare unwaveringly at Xavier. 

Xavier slowly lowered his phone. “It sounded—well, to be honest, it sounded like you were being raped.”

“I’m here by myself,” Erik said, truthfully enough. A wave of nausea came over him and he gripped the door frame tightly with his free hand—the other was holding his towel up—willing it to go away. 

It didn’t go away. “Fuck,” Erik managed to say before he stumbled to his kitchen trash receptacle a few feet away and emptied the contents of his stomach into it. He didn’t notice Xavier had come in behind him until he felt a hand stroke through his hair. 

God, but being touched like that felt _good._ Erik breathed heavily into the trash bin for a few moments, letting Xavier keep touching his hair, before he decided that the worst of the nausea had passed. He carefully stood up, still awkwardly clutching his towel. Xavier stepped back and watched him with large, concerned blue eyes, belatedly handing him a paper towel. 

“Is there anything I can do for you?” Xavier asked softly. 

Erik didn’t have the energy to keep his guard up. His left hand was clutching his towel, and with his right he leaned on the kitchen counter. “Water,” he croaked. 

Xavier opened two cupboards before he found a glass that he filled from the tap and silently handed the glass to Erik. Erik took it with his right hand and lost his balance for a moment before Xavier put a hand on Erik’s shoulder. 

Erik finished the water and closed his eyes, trying to kick the nausea. Xavier’s hand on him was a warm and stabilizing weight that he didn’t want to like. 

He opened his eyes and saw that Xavier was frankly admiring his bare torso. “Classy,” he croaked, but there was no heat in it. He pulled away from Xavier and walked to the couch in his living room and sat down heavily. Logan was in the corner of the room, his tail still between his legs. 

Xavier frowned. “Is Logan alright?”

“He’s fine,” Erik said quickly, his heart pounding. “I—he—doesn’t like it when I have nightmares. Come here, Logan,” he said softly to the dog. 

Logan approached Erik slowly, his tail starting to sweep across the floor. He jumped up on the couch next to Erik and put his head in Erik’s lap. Erik scratched behind his ears, feeling suddenly both horribly guilty for what had happened and grateful that Logan had forgiven him. He curled down over Logan, trying to telepathically tell his pet and lover that he was sorry.

“I’m going back to my place,” Xavier said awkwardly after a few minutes, from where he was standing between the living room and the kitchen. “I, ah, well, here.” He pulled out his wallet and handed Erik a business card. “If you need—well, anyway, my number’s on there.”

Erik nodded, still curled over Logan. He felt...naked, somehow, not just half-naked; bare and exposed and raw in a way that should be painful but which was just...vulnerable. “Thank you,” he forced himself to say, letting his eyes flicker up to Xavier’s. 

Xavier gave him a slightly sad smile and left. It crossed Erik’s mind that Xavier actually was really handsome...funny how he hadn’t noticed that before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> References to past abuse. An instance of what could be considered animal abuse (although having sex with your dog certainly qualifies too)


	3. Kinky Bitch

It wasn’t too hard for Erik to convince Logan that it was okay to lick him again. Logan held back about ten seconds longer than he usually would before he was slurping the butter off Erik's cock and balls as usual. Erik would have sworn that he was actually trying to make him feel good, and Erik encouraged him by making more and louder sounds when Logan did things that felt especially good, just as he would a human lover. 

And he didn’t try and stop the bed banging against the wall or his own hoarse cries when Logan knotted him. When he started to wonder why he allowed that to happen, he invariably saw blue eyes and a flirtatious smile in his mind, and it pushed him over the brink into orgasm. 

His neighbor Xavier started giving Erik more space, only saying “Hello,” when they’d chance to see each other in the hall...which still happened quite a bit, actually; Erik thought Xavier probably worked at home. Erik would say "hello" back, and he almost smiled a couple times. Part of him wanted more than that and part of him wanted nothing to do with the other man at all, and Erik tried to let their occasional greetings be enough to placate both parts of him.

One night after Logan gave him a particularly good fucking, Erik went out on his tiny balcony for a rare cigarette, wearing only boxers and a T-shirt. He was thinking about nothing, just enjoying the cooling summer evening air when he heard a disembodied voice coming from his left. 

“Are you ashamed for me to meet him, or for him to meet me?”

It was unmistakably Xavier’s voice, if slightly slurred. “Meet who?” Erik asked, taking a drag off his cigarette. 

There was no response for a moment, and then a dry chuckle. “Okay.”

Erik found to his surprise that he wanted to continue the conversation, even though he had no idea what to say. But somehow being in the dark, with Xavier on another balcony, unable to reach him or see through him with his piercing blue eyes, felt safe. “So you’re single?” he finally said. 

“Ah. Yes.” Xavier seemed surprised by the question. He abruptly chuckled, the same wheezy laugh as before. “At least one of us knows how to answer that question.”

Erik ignored that. “What do you do?” he asked, giving into his curiosity. 

“Is this question also about my sex life? Because in that case the answer is ‘pretty much everything’,” Xavier responded. 

Erik huffed impatiently, ignoring how the words stirred his recently spent cock. “I meant, for work. You’re at home all day.”

“I’m flattered you noticed,” Xavier said, before quickly adding, “I’m a writer.”

“What do you write?”

Xavier paused before responding. “You are awfully curious for someone who doesn’t want to share anything about his own life.”

Erik didn't say anything for a while, taking a slow drag on his cigarette. He heard a faint sound from Xavier's balcony that could have been ice shifting in a glass. Logan came out the balcony door and sat down next to him, and Erik patted him on the side and Logan's tail wagged briefly. "What do you want to know?" Erik said finally. 

"Mmm?" The other man said before clearing his throat. "Oh. Right. Well...um...how do you have a dog? I understand the building doesn't allow pets."

Erik thought about how Moira had provided a letter for him and realized that would lead to follow-up questions. "Ask something else."

Xavier muttered something under his breath that Erik didn't catch, then sighed. He tersely asked, "Well then, what do _you_ do?"

"I'm a sanitation worker," Erik replied. "A garbage man."

"I've been called a garbage man myself," Xavier said, before he made a soft exhale that sounded regretful. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that."

"No, actually, that was kind of funny," Erik said. He hadn't laughed but he was smiling into the darkness. 

"Well, thank you for having a sense of humor," Xavier replied. There was a smile in his voice, too. A few more minutes of silence went by before Xavier asked, "What was your nightmare about, the other night?"

"That's a very personal question, Xavier." Erik was surprised to hear the note of teasing in his own voice. He was surprised to realize that he was actually enjoying the conversation. With Logan by his side, and Xavier essentially invisible and physically unreachable, he felt safe giving voice to his thoughts. Even in Moira's office, any feeling he had was only voiced reluctantly and with great difficulty. 

"Well, _Lehnsherr,_ the impersonal questions seem to make you uncomfortable, so I'd thought I'd switch it up a bit." Xavier was definitely drunk, Erik could tell by the slurring in his voice.

"I was being...attacked," Erik said. "In my nightmare."

"That's awful," Xavier said, his voice full of genuine sympathy. 

They sat for a bit longer before Logan stood up and whined significantly. "I've got to take him out and then go to bed," Erik said. 

"Wait, please, would you...just..." Charles exhaled before he continued. "—say my name?"

Something fragile in his tone beckoned Erik, pulled at his chest and made it feel tight. "Goodnight. Charles."

Erik heard Charles inhale audibly, and then exhale. "Goodnight, Erik."

**

The next night, Erik was craving a fucking again, even though his ass was still sore from being fucked the night before. He wanted it; he wanted to be fucked hard and deep, roughly, and to come gasping. 

He grabbed the tub of butter that now lived on his nightstand, and Logan was immediately at his side, his tail wagging happily. 

"You're gonna get fat," Erik said affectionately to his dog. Since it was a real concern—Logan did look a little chunkier—he tried to use the butter less liberally than he had when they'd first started this. 

Logan woofed and was eagerly licking at Erik's cock before he had gotten done spreading the butter. Erik clutched the sheets under him and tried not to thrust up into Logan's face, because the dog had a greater tendency to nip when he did that. But Logan seemed especially eager that day, which usually meant he would fuck harder than usual. Erik's breath was coming in short, sharp gasps as he thought about it. 

He turned over more quickly than he usually would and Logan eagerly jumped on his back, jabbing his cock at Erik's buttocks for a while in frustration until a lucky jab sank in—Erik's favorite part. He gasped with the hurt and stretch of it since he'd deliberately under-prepared himself, and held on to the headboard as usual, feeling it bang against the wall with a certain shameful satisfaction. 

He was moaning as he usually did, but unlike he usually did, he let himself wonder what his neighbor thought of this. Maybe he thought Erik was a rentboy. The thought was arousing to Erik, and he worked a hand under him to start stroking himself roughly. "Charles," he called out, the thought of his neighbor hearing him filling him with reckless, unholy glee. "Oh, fuck, oh fuck, _Charles_ ," he yelled louder, as Logan's knot started to form. He suddenly realized that his ass was still too sore from the day before to take the knot so he pushed Logan away. Logan whined and Erik felt guilty, so he turned and gripped the dog's cock tightly behind his knot with his left hand and masturbated him with his buttery right hand. He thought about sucking Logan's dick but couldn't bring himself to do it just then...although he hadn't ruled it out forever. 

There was a thump on Erik's wall, and he couldn't help smirking. He didn't know why he'd done it. He didn't want to think about it. 

Until he heard the door to his apartment open. 

Erik immediately released Logan and stepped into his sweatpants which had been on the floor next to the bed. He must have left the door unlocked. Logan jumped off his bed and went towards the living room in curiosity. Swearing to himself, Erik couldn't decide if he was more mortified about potentially being caught jerking off his dog or angry that his neighbor had walked into his apartment uninvited. 

Charles burst into his bedroom, wearing boxers and a T-shirt. His eyes were bloodshot and his hair was a mess. "What the fuck?" he asked, or rather demanded, of Erik.

"Did you just walk into my bedroom?" Erik asked him incredulously.

Charles stared at him for a moment, wild-eyed, before he turned and looked around the room. "Where is he?"

"Get the fuck out," Erik snapped. 

"No," Charles snarled back. "You clearly wanted my attention. Well, you've fucking got it. What do you want?"

He wanted Charles to hold him down and tell him how filthy he was for letting his dog fuck him. "Nothing," Erik said, with a dry swallow. His eyes were wide with panic, and yes, arousal. Erik realized belatedly that he hadn't come and his cock was still about half-hard, and getting harder. 

"I don't believe that," Charles said, stepping closer to him. He smelled like whiskey, Erik realized.

"Are you drunk?" Erk asked. 

Charles was looking at him intensely, breathing hard, and he waved the question away. "A little."

The tension in the room was thick as Erik considered how he should be reacting; how he wanted to react. He found himself staring at Charles' thick thighs and thinking about how surprisingly powerful they looked. Those thighs were for fucking. Without consciously deciding to do so, Erik found his mouth forming the words he wanted to say against his better judgement. "Fuck me," Erik whispered. It was a clear to both of them that Erik was being literal; it was not a figure of speech.

Charles' eyes widened slightly and he stared at Erik before he moved suddenly, grabbing Erik's cock none-too-gently though his sweatpants. "What the fuck is wrong with you?" he huffed, pushing Erik backwards towards his bed by his cock. "You needed to piss me off first? You couldn't just go out with me, like a normal person?"

Erik didn't reply, letting himself fall backwards on his bed. Charles pulled down his pants and looked at Erik's cock with frank admiration, before leaning down, his mouth just starting to open. 

"No," Erik yelped. He twisted to avoid Charles' mouth. "Don't suck. Just fuck."

Charles gave Erik a confused, narrow-eyed look. "You don't like to have your dick sucked."

"Not right now," Erik said. His cock was covered with dog saliva, and he thought Charles might be able to tell; that he might smell or taste it. 

"Is this because you were just fucking someone else?"

"Fuck my face," Erik said desperately, his voice rough. "Hold me down. Choke me with your come." 

Charles raised his eyebrows and blinked a few times. He climbed on Erik's chest and pushed down his own boxer shorts, revealing a thick cock, turgid and red. A human cock. Erik groaned at the sight of it. He had missed sucking dick. 

Charles gripped Erik's hair tightly, licking his lips in anticipation. Erik opened his mouth and Charles inhaled as Erik sucked his cock into his mouth, the precome salty and bitter on his lips. Fortunately Charles had not forgotten what Erik had said about fucking his face and he moved his hand off of Erik's hair so that he could brace himself to thrust his cock in and out of Erik's mouth. 

Erik tilted his head to be at the best angle and opened his throat as far as he could. Charles was grunting above him, just using Erik's mouth as a place to get off, as it should be...why had he thought Xavier wasn't capable of this?

"I'm going to come," Charles grunted, adding, "I want you to take it all in your mouth, you fucking whore."

Erik's cock jumped at Charles' words, and he wordlessly agreed, nodding slightly but eagerly. Charles' come hit the back of his throat shortly thereafter and he fought the urge to cough, squeezing his eyes until his face turned red with the exertion of it. His mouth fillled with come and Xavier practically lay on him, panting, his penis still inside Erik's mouth. Charles' cock was big enough that Erik wouldn't be able to swallow until Charles pulled out. 

"Don't swallow," Charles said, as he pulled his cock out of Erik's mouth. "In fact, don't move."

There was nothing making Erik follow Charles' orders, but he found himself following them anyway. 

Erik's legs were hanging off the end of the bed, his sweatpants pushed down just below his hips. Charles pulled them the rest of the way off and looked thoughtfully at Erik's naked body. Erik wanted to squirm but he forced himself to be still. His cock was still achingly hard. 

"Do you still have a mouthful of my come?" Charles asked casually.

Erik nodded. 

Charles licked his already red lips and smiled. "Good," he said softly. "You only swallow once you are coming, do you understand?"

Erik shivered and nodded. His hips were moving slightly of their own accord. 

"Do you like pain, Erik?"

Erik nodded. 

"Do you like being slapped?"

Erik nodded again. 

"I'm going to slap you," Charles said in a very matter of fact voice. "I'm going to slap hard enough that you will want to cry out, but if you do, you will choke on my come. What do you think of that?"

Erik nodded, his breaths coming faster now, unable to keep completely still. 

"Where's your lube?" Charles asked. Erik didn't know how to answer, but he did angle his head towards the tub of butter on his nightstand.

"Is this...butter?" Charles asked, sounding puzzled. Then he laughed. "That explains why you always smell like butter. You're a kinky bitch, aren't you?"

_You have no idea,_ Erik thought. 

Charles put a liberal amount of butter on his fingers and wrapped them around Erik's cock. Erik breathed hard through his nose, and tried not to choke when a sharp slap landed on his upper thigh. 

"Oh, did that surprise you?" Charles murmured, a hint of amusement in his tone. "It would be so hard to explain if you choked to death on my come, so do be careful." He slapped Erik on the belly, still jerking him off. 

The handjob was rough and perfect. He wanted to tell Charles so but he was effectively gagged by the come in his mouth. 

Charles abruptly chuckled. "Your dog is watching," he observed. "Do you usually let him watch?"

With a choked grunt, Erik came, his body convulsing. He swallowed the come in his mouth as he did so. "No," he rasped when he could talk again. 

Well, it wasn't a lie.

But Charles was frowning back and forth between his buttery hand and Logan. "Erik," he said slowly. 

"Get out," Erik said. 

Charles gave him a surprised look, tinged with hurt. "What?"

_"Go. Home,"_ Erik said emphatically. He stood up and strode into his shower, not bothering to see if Charles did as he requested. When he finished showering, though, Charles was gone, and only Logan remained. 

Erik lay down on his bed wearily and patted the space next to him. Logan jumped up on the bed, walked in a circle three times, and plopped himself down next to Erik. Erik patted the dog on his side, feeling strangely empty. "I don't need anyone but you, Logan."

Logan woofed softly and wagged his tail a couple times before licking Erik's hand.


	4. Unconscious

Erik went out of his way to avoid Charles after that. He tried not to think about him, because it made his stomach hurt, and sometimes it even felt hard to breathe. He wasn't sure exactly what it was about Charles or the situation that made him feel bad, but whatever it was, it affected his body negatively. Erik figured avoiding Charles was the best solution. 

He didn’t bring any of it up at his weekly appointment with Moira.

It was almost a week before he had sex with Logan again, and for the first time in his life, he couldn't come when he wanted to. He jerked himself after Logan had knotted inside him, until the skin on his cock was red and abraded, but he couldn't make it happen. It was frustrating because at only 21 years old he thought he should be able to come multiple times in a day if he wanted to. 

He didn't hit the wall, though; actually he was trying to be quieter about the whole thing. Considering what Charles now knew about Erik and Logan—

_He doesn't know anything,_ Erik told himself firmly as his heart began to pound. Charles had seen nothing. He knew nothing. 

Erik told himself that every time his thoughts turned to Charles, which was distressingly often. Over the next few days, though, his physical reactions to thinking about his neighbor were not improving; if anything, they were getting worse. Exactly a week after the night Charles had come into Erik's apartment—Erik was careful to always lock the door now—he heard a lot of noise coming from Charles' apartment. Yelling and banging were all he could really identify. 

Erik started to feel physically ill and he pulled Logan closer to him on his couch and put on some headphones. He was able to focus on the Buzzfeed article he was reading and the Panic! At The Disco song he was listening to for about another two minutes before he decided he needed to take Logan for a walk. 

He pulled off the headphones and noticed there was no longer any noise coming from next door. _Well, that's good,_ Erik told himself. Maybe Charles had gone out. Maybe he had fallen asleep. 

He stubbornly refused to consider any other possibilities as he got up to get Logan's leash. He snapped it on the dog's collar, and they went outside. 

He tried not to, but he couldn't help shooting a quick glance in the direction of Charles' door just before he and Logan slipped outside. He had looked away again by the time it registered in his mind, but he thought he saw someone lying on the floor in front of Charles' apartment door. 

Erik chewed on his lip, feeling a little anxious about what he might have seen while Logan did what he needed to on the grass. When he was done, Erik walked Logan back inside the building, moving more quickly than before. Once inside the hallway, Erik saw immediately that it was Charles lying on the hallway floor. He hesitated. Charles jerked suddenly, making a choked sound. Logan immediately tugged Erik towards supine man and sniffed him, then licked him on the face. When he got closer Erik could tell that Charles was unconscious, his face pale and waxy-looking. 

Logan backed up and whined and make an odd little bark, turning his head to look at Erik. Erik saw the reason for Logan’s distress a moment later; Charles was apparently vomiting—while lying on his back. 

Erik hastily knelt down and pulled Charles onto his side, where the unconscious man coughed and retched again, now fortunately in a position in which he wouldn't choke to death. The vomit landed mostly on the front of Erik's pants. Logan sniffed at the vomit and then looked at Erik and whined again, his tail down. 

"Shit," said Erik. The mess on his pants was disturbingly warm and reeked of alcohol, but it was the least of his concerns. He couldn't leave Charles here like this. Charles was still out cold, and he might very well vomit again—and if Erik left him, he might do it on his back and asphyxiate.

"Shit," Erik said again, louder. He patted Charles down for house keys and couldn't find any. Well, if he'd gotten locked out it would explain why he was lying in front of his apartment door, Erik thought. Still...that only left Erik's apartment. 

"Goddamn it," Erik snarled as he turned Charles on his back again. He bent over and lifted under Charles' shoulders enough to his get hands under Charles' arms. From that position, he was able to lift Charles enough to drag him to Erik's front door. Erik put the other man back on his side for a moment while he unlocked the door, and right then Charles started vomiting again.

Erik, half-kneeling awkwardly, kept a hand on Charles' shoulder so that he would stay on his side for the duration, remembering when Charles had soothed him when he'd vomited just, what, a few weeks before? Erik recalled enjoying the contact even though a part of his mind rebelled against the idea even now. 

Erik put the cognitive dissonance out of his mind. He rubbed Charles' shoulder gently, if a bit awkwardly, until the vomiting seemed to be done. Then he picked Charles up under his shoulders again and dragged him inside his apartment, leaving the mess outside. Logan seemed a little too interested in the regurgitated material to come inside, until Erik said his name sharply. Erik shut the door with his foot, behind the dog.

Erik pulled Charles over to the couch and put him on his side, then took a step back. "Fuck," Erik said after moment, in resignation, when the reality of the situation struck him: the man he'd been avoiding all week was now inside his apartment, albeit completely unconscious.

Charles' clothes—jeans and a gray T-shirt—were unfairly clean, Erik thought as he realized exactly how gross the front of his pants were. He needed desperately to change, but he didn't know if Charles would stay on his side long enough for him to do that. 

The man seemed relatively well-propped-up against the back of the couch, at least. "Keep an eye on him," Erik said to Logan, who wagged his tail twice and panted. Erik quickly went into his bedroom and peeled off all his clothes, including his wet and smelly pants. He really wanted to take a quick shower, but didn't want to risk leaving Charles unattended for that long; despite what he'd said to the dog, he didn't really expect that Logan understood. 

Erik balled up his clothes and stuffed them in the bathroom sink and then took a very fast and very cold shower; he went through about thirty seconds of swearing under his breath and shivering before he hopped out and quickly dried himself. He was just putting on sweatpants, with the towel from his shower slung around his neck, when he heard Logan barking in the living room. Erik didn't think much of the barking for about ten seconds until he realized what it could signify. He ran into the living to room to find what he was expecting and dreading: Charles had somehow gotten mostly onto his back and his body was jerking like he was trying to vomit again. At a loss for a better solution, Erik dropped the towel around his neck on the floor and pulled on Charles' shoulder until he was on his side again. This time, he stood back in anticipation of what Charles was expelling, but fortunately (for Erik's floor) he was dry-heaving and only a small amount of bile landed on Erik's towel. 

Erik sighed and sat down on the floor next to the couch, feeling completely exhausted, keeping one hand on Charles so he wouldn't move to his back again. Logan was clearly distressed, pacing and panting with his tail wagging low. "Yeah, me too," Erik said, reaching out for Logan with the hand that wasn't on Charles' shoulder. Logan came and stood next to Erik, but he didn't seem inclined to sit down. The dog yawned and made a sound somewhere between a yelp and a whine. 

Charles stirred and made a small sound. Erik looked at him tiredly and suddenly realized that Charles must be extremely dehydrated, considering the dry-heaving. He got up and got a glass of water for Charles, keeping his eye on the passed-out man the whole time in case he rolled onto his back again. As an afterthought, he grabbed a paper towel before he went back into the living room. 

Charles seemed a little more conscious—at least he was making small moaning sounds and moving more. Erik stood in front of him with the glass of water uncertainly. "Can you sit up?" he asked, suddenly feeling foolish for some reason.

Charles heard him, but could barely move his head to shake it 'no'. Erik put the water down on the floor momentarily and tried to get Charles sitting upright on the couch, but the best he could accomplish was pulling Charles’ head and shoulder into his own lap. At least the man's head was in a position where he wouldn't have to defy gravity to drink, though, so Erik got the glass of water off the ground and held it to Charles' mouth, saying firmly, "Drink."

Surprisingly, Charles cooperated, taking too big a sip at first and choking a little. Some water spilled out of his mouth, and Erik was glad he'd had the foresight to get the paper towel from the kitchen as he dabbed at Charles' mouth. "Try again?" he suggested in an expressionless voice, and Charles gave a barely perceptible nod. This time the water went down properly. 

When he'd had as much as he could handle—only a few sips, really—Charles sighed and leaned his head down on Erik's lap. "Why?" he said, so softly that Erik could pretend he hadn't heard. His eyes were closed, but his brow furrowed and his face lifted towards Erik's.

Erik was suffused with a strange feeling of tenderness towards the man lying so awkwardly in his lap. He didn't know if Charles was asking "Why are you helping me?" or "Why did you kick me out the last time I was here?" or some other question, but it didn't matter because he was pretty sure he didn't have an answer for Charles, anyway. 

It occurred to Erik for the first time that Charles had been drinking or drunk nearly every time he'd seen the man. Perhaps Charles had problems that had nothing to do with Erik. Maybe this incident had nothing to do with Erik. Maybe Charles was as broken as Erik was. 

Erik smoothed a piece of hair out of Charles' face. The sick feeling in his stomach was actually going away, even though Charles was closer to him than ever. Maybe feeling closer to Charles was better, Erik thought, and even though that thought gave him a knee-jerk feeling of terror, it also had a soft appeal. He wondered what Moira would say and thought about calling her. 

Except—he couldn't call her, because if he left Charles unsupervised, he might asphyxiate on his own vomit. Erik was getting sleepy but he was also getting uncomfortable; Charles had drifted back into deep sleep and his chin was digging into Erik's thigh. Erik couldn't and didn't want to sit here all night, and since he couldn't leave Charles here by himself, that left only one solution.

"Okay," Erik said loudly. "Time to get up."

Charles did not stir, although Erik hadn't really expected him to. Erik carefully withdrew from under Charles and the man promptly rolled onto his back again. 

"No," Erik said in exasperation. Huffing in frustration, he scooped his arms under Charles and got him in basically a bridal-style carry position, although it did take Erik a couple tries before he was able to stand up completely because the other man was heavier than he looked. Charles was completely non-responsive as Erik staggered down the hall to his bedroom. He put Charles on the bed as carefully as possible and then looked around for something Charles could throw-up into, if necessary, and ended up running to the kitchen to fetch his kitchen trash container. When he got back, Charles was on his back again. 

"Am I going to have to hold you up all night?" Erik asked, rhetorically, because Charles was still unconscious. Erik rolled him onto his front and went to get the water glass he'd left in the living room and a roll of paper towels—just in case. Miraculously, Charles was still on his front when Erik got back. Erik lay down next to Charles, facing him, and put an arm over him as an insurance policy that Charles wouldn't be able to roll onto his back again. 

It was not comfortable. It was far too intimate, and too warm, and Erik was getting sweaty. But as much as he didn't want Charles to die in front of his own front door, he certainly didn't want him to die in Erik's bed. So he lay facing Charles, his arm over him, preventing him from lying on his back and tried to sleep despite the physical discomfort and the surreal feeling of almost-intimacy with another human being.

**

The next morning, Erik woke the moment Charles made a sound. It was actually a very small groan, barely noticeable, but Erik hadn't slept deeply at all, so he was instantly wide awake. Charles had rolled onto his side and his back was pressed into Erik's front. Erik was a little embarrassed to realize that the arm he had slung over Charles earlier to make sure he wouldn’t roll onto his back was now clutching the other man's chest in a death grip. 

Charles timidly started to lift Erik's arm and Erik immediately removed it. Charles shuffled around so he was facing Erik—and his eyes widened in surprise when he recognized him. "You?" he whispered. 

Charles' breath was one of the worst things Erik had ever smelled. He rolled onto his back, away from Charles. "You were passed out in the hall and choking on your own vomit." Erik shrugged, not looking at Charles. 

"Did we...?" Charles’ voice was hesitant. Erik turned his head to see Charles giving him a concerned look. 

"No," Erik said, disgusted. "I just told you, you were passed out!"

"Do you...want...?" The expression on Charles' face made it clear that _he_ didn't ‘want’, but he reached for Erik's cock anyway. 

Erik jerked away. "No! The fuck is wrong with you? You probably have alcohol poisoning and you think I want to fuck?"

Charles frowned. He sighed and turned to lay on his back. (Erik had to resist the urge to push him up on his side by the shoulder as he'd been doing all night). "I don't know. I don't understand why else I would be here."

"Because..." Erik realized that he didn't feel like explaining. "You know what, nevermind. You're awake, and alive, and you should reconsider your life choices." He didn't know where the last words came from. Maybe he'd heard Moira say that?

Charles didn’t respond verbally, but he started to sit up and immediately lay back down. Part of Erik wanted to offer assistance, or water, or food, but being kind to a conscious Charles was a world of difference from being kind to an unconscious Charles. So he didn’t move; he just watched Charles, not sure what he felt or thought or even what he was supposed to think or feel.

Charles had closed his eyes and looked miserable. “Do you hate me?” he whispered. 

Erik frowned. “No,” he said, because he knew that was true. The only person he truly hated was the man who had raped him repeatedly in prison. “But you are…” He couldn’t think of a word that was appropriately harsh without being too harsh. “...annoying,” he finally settled on. 

Charles turned his head just enough to glance at him briefly. He gave a soft snort of mirth. “I’m sure that’s true. I’m sorry about that. Sometimes I just want to...I don’t know. Affect people.”

They were too close, especially for this conversation. Erik rolled up and out of bed, waking Logan, who was curled up behind Erik. Yawning, Logan jumped heavily down from the bed. _Too much butter,_ Erik thought, looking at his thick dog. 

He stood on the far side of the bed from Charles, feeling safer farther away, but also more naked when he realized that he was just wearing sweatpants; he hadn’t put a shirt on the night before. He crossed his arms in front of him. “I don’t want to affect anyone,” he said, which was true, but he was unprepared for the look of confusion and then pity in Charles’ eyes. 

Charles tried sitting up again, and this time he was successful, although clearly something was causing him pain, based on the look on his face. “I need to put something in my stomach. May I take you out to breakfast? As a thank you?”

Erik gave a small incredulous bark of laughter. “You want to go out? In the condition you’re in?”

Charles waved away Erik’s comment. “I’m fine. I deal with this all the time.”

Erik stood with his arms crossed, scowling at Charles. He felt angry at Charles but not for the reason he expected, and it was confusing him. “You need to leave,” he said finally. It was hard to say, but the alternative was not something Erik would consider.

“Why are you such an asshole?” Charles asked tiredly, standing up. 

“I’m an asshole?” Erik’s voice raised and anger surged in him. “I just saved your fucking life, and I’m an _asshole_?”

“Who fucking asked you to?” Charles snapped back, unexpectedly. “I’m so tired of this shit. I’m tired of being fucking used and kicked out. I’m tired of assholes like you—”

“You came into my home, into my bedroom! While I was fucking! And you—”

“You yelled _my name!_ ”

Erik abruptly stopped talking. He knew Charles was right, at least on some points. He had taunted Charles, and his bluff had been called. And then he had used Charles for sex. Erik stared at the other man, breathing heavily, trying to ignore the adrenaline coursing through him as his mind worked through everything Charles was saying. 

“I’m sorry,” he said finally, quietly, not looking at Charles. “I can’t give you...what you want. I shouldn’t have…” He paused for a long while while he tried to figure out how to finish the sentence. “Propositioned you.”

“Then why…” Charles made a vague gesture indicating Erik’s room and bed. He looked at Erik with an expression that combined hurt and confusion simultaneously, his brow deeply furrowed. After a moment he scoffed and started walking around the bed and out Erik’s bedroom door, muttering. 

“Every time,” Charles said, his voice filled with bitterness. “Every fucking time.”

Erik followed him out to the living room to make sure he was leaving, but Charles’ shouted parting words as he walked out the door made him feel like he had been punched in the gut. 

_“Have fun fucking your dog!”_


	5. Therapy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update! Next update should be in a few days, though.  
> Content warning in end notes, not too spoilery.

"Do you know why people...like...what they do? I mean, uh, sexually?"

It was a late Monday afternoon, the day after Charles had angrily left Erik’s apartment. The sunlight was just at the perfect angle to hit Erik in his left eye, and he thought he might develop a permanent squint because of it, but he didn’t change chairs. 

Moira gave Erik an assessing look before she replied. "Sexuality is very complicated, Erik. It’s hard to say what causes someone to be gay or bisexual. Is that what you're concerned about?"

Erik shook his head. He had known for a long time that he was attracted to men, since he was a kid, although he’d never spoken to anyone of it until after he got out of prison. "No, no, I mean—it's more that I crave a certain...um, way, of having sex. And I never used to before I was in prison, so I thought it might be caused by...what happened there."

There was a pause, during which Erik did not look up at Moira. After a moment, she spoke softly. "You haven't wanted to talk about that before. Do you want to talk about it now?"

“Not really...I just...I don’t understand. I hated—what happened. I hated the person that did it to me. But what I want now is—similar. Not the same, not _him_ , never him, but...it doesn’t make sense,” Erik finished awkwardly. It was so hard to talk about it at all; his fists kept clenching and unclenching of their own accord. 

He glanced and Moira and saw her brow was furrowed. “I’m sorry Erik; I’m not really following,” she said apologetically. 

Erik inhaled and exhaled slowly. “Okay, I’ll—” He looked to the side, so he didn’t have to see her face. "I was—rr—fucked—against my will, my first night in prison." Erik paused for a moment, before forcing himself to continue. "My cellmate was the leader of a white supremacist gang—he never knew I was Jewish, or I don’t know what would have happened. Anyway, he told me that he was going to fuck me whenever he felt like it, and it would be a lot easier for me if I learned to like it." Erik paused again, but didn't look at Moira. If he was going to get all this out, he needed to lock away the feeling part of himself, and looking at her face wasn't conducive to that. "I didn't believe him, the first time. I fought. He had three of his guys hold me down and...it was...rough." He imagined the bad feelings locked tightly in a safe. He took a few breaths. "I was only really forced once. After that, I...agreed. It was easier that way. I hated him so much, but it was...okay. Not okay, but I could do it."

"You did what you had to to survive," Moira said, her voice so gentle it was almost a whisper. "But Erik, if you were coerced or threatened into having sex against your will, that was rape."

"But I agreed," Erik said. He was trembling and felt like he was standing on the precipice of a cliff, and that a stiff breeze might blow him over. "I never enjoyed it," he added hastily, his head snapping up to look at her. "But I thought...I could pretend...if this were someone else, I could enjoy this." He paused for a long while. "And now..." He made a disgusted noise. "Now, I...I— _crave_ it. I crave—being fucked. Hard and rough. Not by him—I _hate_ him—but..." He put his face in his hands and groaned. The feelings were leaking out of his safe, but that was better than exploding out. "What the fuck is wrong with me?" His voice cracked on the word 'me'.

"Nothing," Moira said in a firm but gentle voice. "There's nothing wrong with you, Erik. You developed a defense mechanism to help keep you sane through the horror of repeated rapes. Like I said, sexuality is complicated. Some people reject—or are triggered by—any things related to traumatic experiences, while some people fetishize them.” She paused. “Are you concerned that you are hurting yourself or someone else? Have you been sexually active, recently?”

“Um. No and yes, in order.”

Erik didn’t have to be looking at Moira to hear the soft inhale of breath that meant he’d surprised her. 

“Well. First, I want you to know that you are not a bad person because of what you like sexually. However...sometimes people can use sex as a way to harm themselves, and I hope you aren't doing that.”

Erik finally looked at her. “What do you mean?”

“Well, having unsafe sex is one example. Do you use condoms?”

Erik was fairly certain he wasn’t going to catch anything from Logan, but he had swallowed Charles’s come without batting an eye. “Sometimes,” he said reluctantly. 

“I see,” she said, disapproval evident in her voice. “Are there other ways that you are trying to hurt yourself? This kind of sex you crave—do you actually enjoy it, or is there some other reason you crave it?”

Erik thought about that hard, frowning. “I do enjoy it,” he said after a moment. “Sometimes it hurts, but that’s part of what I want.” He looked at Moira. “Is that—wrong?”

Moira sighed. “Right and wrong can be subjective, Erik. I would like to see you take fewer risks in your sex life. But it’s only _wrong_ if you are forcing—or coercing, like what happened to you—someone to do something with you against their will."

Erik put a hand over most of his face, staring at Moira, his brain working. "How do I know if it's against their will?" he asked, his voice slightly muffled.

Moira blinked and gave him a look that was half alarm and half incredulity. "You ask them, Erik. Who is it that you had sex with?"

Erik licked his lips and decided to tell a half-truth. "Do you remember that guy I told you about—my neighbor?"

Moira raised her eyebrows slightly. "The pushy one? Who reminds you of me?" She smiled. "Yes, I do."

Erik scratched his neck. "Well, last week, he was drunk and he walked into my apartment and into my bedroom. And I was just, um, well, before he came in I was...mast—"

Moira interrupted him, frowning. "Hang on Erik, I think I missed something. He walked into your bedroom? Have you been seeing him socially, or hanging out together? I thought you didn't want anything to do with him."

Erik hesitated. "Well, that's kind of...right. I didn't. I don't. But I was...thinking...about him, while I was, uh, jerking off, and I sort of hit the wall and yelled his name and...I—kind of...wanted him to hear."

Moira blinked a few times and then nodded slowly, if not entirely happily. "And then he came over?"

"Yes," Erik said. "But that's not all. He walked into my bedroom and I asked him to...I propositioned him. And then, uh, we had sex. And then I kicked him out."

"I see," Moira said, in the exact same tone of voice that she had said it before.

Erik knew she disapproved, and part of him felt bad and part of him felt rebellious. Regardless, he had more to say. “But the really weird thing is—we sort of, uh, avoided each other for a while and then a week later—just a couple days ago—I found him passed out in front of his door, and he started vomiting, on his back, and I thought he was going to choke to death, so I took him to my place and, uh. Made sure he didn’t sleep on his back.”

Moira had a very carefully blank expression on her face. “How did you make sure he didn’t sleep on his back?”

"I...slept next to him.”

Moira pressed her lips together and nodded. “Is this why you were asking me about how to know if someone gives consent?”

Erik’s eyes widened. “No! I didn’t touch him—well, I had my arm over him, but that was _it_. The next morning he offered, though, and I got pissed because—well, that’s the weird part. I was mad that he wasn’t, well, taking care of himself.” Erik thought that was pretty significant and he looked up at Moira to see what she thought. She was frowning. 

“Why didn’t you call 911?”

Erik hesitated. “I didn’t really think of it.”

She nodded and exhaled hard. “Okay. Erik, we’re almost out of time today, but the more I hear about this man, the more I think that he is deeply troubled. He doesn’t sound like someone you should be involved with.”

“I’m not _involved_ with him,” Erik said truculently, realizing how young he sounded and still feeling put-out about her words. 

“You had sex with him and then he spent the night with you,” Moira said, in a very matter-of-fact tone. “That sounds like ‘involved’ to me.”

Erik didn't reply. 

"I really think that you should take some more time for yourself before you get into a relationship, Erik," Moira said. Erik looked at her to see a tiny crinkle in her brow. 

Erik didn't say anything for a few seconds as he thought about her suggestion. He had no intention of getting into a relationship with Xavier, of course, but he couldn’t help but wonder about his relationship with Logan. "You told me to get a dog."

Unexpectedly, Moira laughed. "Oh, a relationship with Logan is fine! I mean a romantic or sexual relationship, Erik."

It was a good thing time ran out then, because he had absolutely no response for that. 

 

**

Erik went home in a foul mood, more determined than ever to avoid Xavier. He wanted to blank his mind, and he knew of nothing better for that than a good, hard fucking. And he knew exactly who was going to give it to him.

He knew he was entering a black mood because he nearly kicked his own door in when his lock gave him trouble for what felt like the fifty-third time that month. He slammed the door behind him and Logan immediately ran behind the couch, whining, with his tail between his legs. 

"Logan," he called, feeling both tired and restless. He went into the bedroom and whistled once. Logan didn't immediately come into the bedroom, which wasn't like him at all. Erik frowned, feeling annoyed. He walked back out to the living room and saw Logan's tail sticking out from behind the sofa, so he walked around to the back of the sofa. Logan was looking up at him, his eyes round. 

Erik had the oddest sensation of his awareness splitting. Part of him was annoyed that Logan wasn't immediately coming to the bedroom with a wagging tail and a partial erection. And the other part of himself was horrified that he would so casually be prioritizing his needs over Logan's, when Logan couldn't say no; couldn't give consent at all.

Erik took a step back in confusion. He took a few numb steps to the front side of the couch and sat down heavily. _Had he been raping Logan all along?_

He put his head in his hands. Although he hadn't researched it, Erik had a pretty good idea that having sex with his dog was probably against the law. That didn't bother him that much; he didn't think that right and wrong always lined up with legal and illegal, although it was a good reason to not tell Moira. But it hadn't occurred to him that Logan might not want it, or maybe wasn't able to give consent...he seemed like he wanted to fuck, but was Erik...hurting him? Erik felt that he and Logan had mutual respect and understanding, but what if that wasn't true at all?

Logan walked around to the front of the couch with his tail wagging. "Oh, hi," Erik said, surprised to see him feeling better so soon. He remembered how forgiving Logan had been before. Erik took Logan's face in his hands. "I don't deserve you," he said sincerely, looking into Logan's soulful brown eyes. 

Logan licked him on the nose. 

Erik chuckled and scratched Logan behind his ears. Logan let him for a moment and then nosed at Erik's crotch. "Oh," Erik said in amusement. "Now you're in the mood, huh?"

Logan barked once. 

Erik petted him for a moment longer. He thought maybe it was a good idea to ask Logan...even though he couldn't speak, Erik felt Logan would let him know if he didn't want it. "Logan," he said gently. "Do you want to have sex?"

Logan barked again, wagging his tail happily. 

Feeling only a little guilty, Erik decided that was an affirmative response. "C'mon, then," he said, standing. Logan ran to the bedroom eagerly and then popped his head out as if to say, _What's takin' you so long?_

Erik walked into the bedroom and picked up the tub of butter doubtfully. If he used that, was it coercion? Would Logan fuck him without it? 

Logan woofed softly, looking up at Erik, his tail wagging. His eyes were going back and forth between Erik's face and the butter. He whined softly. 

Not entirely able to subsume his guilt, Erik stripped and did his usual prep; he scooped some butter into his hand and quickly and roughly fingered himself open before he swept his slick hand over his cock and balls to spread the butter around. Logan had jumped on the bed before Erik had even laid down, and as soon as Erik's cock was within his reach, Logan was licking it easily. 

Erik pulled a pillow over his face and groaned into it. Fuck, but it felt _so good_. Logan's tongue was long and sloppy and curious and entirely without shame. When Logan started licking on and around his balls, Erik lifted and bent back his legs, and Logan eagerly licked as far into Erik's asshole as he could, his wet nose nudging Erik's balls as he did. Erik was getting ready to turn over, the pillow still over his face (mostly for it's noise-muffling properties) when he felt something he'd never felt before—Logan was trying to mount him while Erik was still lying on his back. 

Bemused, Erik pulled the pillow off his face and watched Logan's panting face as he jabbed his hips in the vicinity of Erik's ass. His aim was a little high, so Erik tried to raise his hips to compensate, grasping his legs to pull them higher and raise his hips. 

Then a lucky jab sank it, and Erik made a sound that was half gasp and half yell. Logan started fucking fast and hard as he usually did, but in his current position Erik could see him, and it was...jarring. There was a dog fucking him, a panting dog with his tongue lolling out, who wasn't looking anywhere except possibly at the wall over Erik's head. 

It was surreal. And yet—they did this all the time. 

Erik was dragged out of his head as Logan's knot began to form, because as usual it was a mix of pain and an intensely good feeling, and Erik dragged the pillow back onto his face and yelled into it. 

Logan quickly slowed his thrusts once he knotted, as he usually did. Erik kept the pillow over his face because it was...easier, for some reason. 

That turned out to be a mistake, because if he had been looking at Logan, he might have seen him start to turn around. As it was, he realized too late what Logan was doing before the dog stepped directly on his penis and then scratched it roughly as he continued trying to turn. 

"Ow, fuck!" Erik yelled, his hands instinctively going to protect his genitals. Logan, alarmed, backed up hard, and Erik screamed again as the knot was pulled out of his ass roughly, before it had gone down at all. 

Erik groaned in agony as Logan jumped off the bed and ran out of the room. He was in such intense pain from his anus and penis that he just curled up into the fetal position and tried to breathe evenly. It didn't help that he remembered the last time he had been in such pain; the first time he had been raped in prison. 

Erik pushed that thought out of his mind and thought about other things...Magda. No, that was no good; she had left him like everyone else. Anya was a pleasant thought, until he remembered finding her in her crib, so very quiet...

"Fuck!" Erik yelled into his room. It wasn't enough to be in excruciating pain; he couldn't even find a happy thought?

Charles' face swam into his mind, and Erik let it stay. There were definitely worse things than Charles. At least he liked Erik, for some unfathomable reason. Or he had, before he'd found out who was fucking Erik. 

That train of thought culminated in an unpleasant place, but at least Erik hadn't been triggered. He carefully sat up and rolled off the side of his bed and hobbled to the bathroom to inspect the damage. His penis was actually bleeding quite a bit from a long scratch on the side, but he only noticed a few spots of blood from his anus...nothing too unusual there, considering how hard he liked to be fucked. It still felt sore as hell, though. 

He showered and then applied antiseptic cream to his penis once he was dry. He lay down carefully (and exhaustedly) on his bed once he was done. "Logan," he called gently. 

It took two more tries, but the dog did eventually come into the bedroom and jumped on the bed. "I know it's not your fault," he told the Rottweiler, scratching behind his ears. Logan seemed a little nervous—he was trembling a bit. Erik talked softly to him and petted him until the dog relaxed. 

Erik curled up on his side facing his pet and picked up one of Logan's paws. He stroked Logan's paw gently, noticing idly that Logan only had three claws on that foot. “I wish we could communicate a little better, buddy,” Erik said. Logan just looked at him, uncomprehending. 

Erik sighed and gingerly rolled onto his back. So much for thinking that fucking a dog would be any easier or less complicated than fucking a human.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have zero psychological training or experience, so what Moira is saying is 100% made up.  
> Descriptions of past abuse.  
> Dog fucks man  
> Sexual trauma


	6. Open

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning in end notes (spoilery)

The following Friday, Erik got home at the same time he usually did—earlier than most people, since he started work in the wee hours of the morning—and found that his front door was wide open. 

He walked inside cautiously, his heart pounding. The first thing that crossed his mind was that Magda had come back to him—but that was impossible; how would she know where he lived?

His senses were on high alert in case there was someone in his apartment, but as he stood there listening intently and breathing as quietly as possible, he realized that there was nobody there. 

Literally nobody. 

He looked around his small apartment, a different kind of fear gripping him. "Logan?"

There was no answer. 

Erik distractedly pushed the door shut behind him, and it bounced back and hit the wall behind it, narrowly missing his arm. He swore and looked at the lock more closely. He couldn’t tell what was wrong with it by looking at it, except maybe the metal tongue wasn’t coming out far enough? He was thinking about how he should call maintenance when he remembered he had a bigger problem. 

He shut the door carefully so it stayed shut and tried to ignore the ugly feeling deep in his stomach. Logan had to be hiding, or asleep. Maybe he got shut in the hall closet. 

Erik went through his entire apartment and looked in every place big enough to conceal Logan; there weren't that many. When he realized that his fears were true, he felt like he was having trouble breathing. Logan wasn't there. The door had been open, and Logan was gone. He felt panicked and clammy, and his vision was starting to dim. He was feeling...he didn't know what he was feeling. He needed Logan. Logan wouldn't have left Erik; someone must have taken him.

The answer popped into his mind when he thought about his door being unlocked. Charles had come into Erik's apartment last week. _Charles_ had opened the door. "Charles," Erik said, and his world focused. Charles must have come in. _Charles must have Logan._ Erik yelled. _"Charles!"_

He left his apartment and swiftly walked the few feet down the hall to Charles' apartment and banged on the door. _"Charles!"_ he hollered, banging loudly. 

There was no response, although Erik didn't wait long for one before he slammed his body against Charles' door. The wood of the door frame splintered and let him in on Erik's third try.

Charles stood frozen in the doorway of his bedroom, wearing only boxers and a T-shirt. His eyes were wide as he stared at Erik. 

"Where's Logan?" Erik snarled. "What do you do with him? Is this your idea of a fucking joke?"

Charles held his hands up, his eyes going even wider. He shook his head slowly from side to side and spoke in a voice that was a shade too patronizing. "I don't what you're talking about, Erik. Is Logan missing?"

"Don't play stupid!" Erik said, and his voice didn't sound like his own. His throat felt tight. "You took him. You must have. He wouldn't—" Erik shook his head. He couldn't think clearly and his ears were ringing. Logan had to be here, because the alternative was too awful to contemplate. _"WHERE IS HE?"_ Erik screamed, advancing on Charles. He wanted a weapon. He wanted to beat Charles bloody for taking his best friend.

Until he noticed that Charles had backed away from Erik until he'd bumped into the wall behind him. He was trembling and so pale he looked like he'd seen a ghost. 

For some reason, it was then that Erik realized—Charles hadn't taken Logan. Logan had left. 

Erik felt a yell rip itself out of his chest. He turned and picked up the closest heavy object—one of Charles' heavy wooden chairs—and tossed it across the room, away from Charles. It smashed into Charles' kitchen table and knocked several dishes to the floor, where they shattered. Several books and a stack of papers also slid off the table to join the shards of dishware on the floor. 

Erik sank to his knees and put his face in his hands. He could feel himself going numb and shutting down, but that was the better reaction. Charles didn't take Logan. Logan left. Like Magda had left. Like everyone left. 

He heard a voice speaking to him from very far away, as if through water, or molasses. Or oil. Thick and viscous and clinging...

"Erik."

He knew the voice. He didn't respond. If things went the way they usually did, the police would show up soon. Well, fine. There was no was reason not to go to jail now that Logan was gone. No one to take care of. No Magda, no Anya...

"Erik, are you warm enough?"

Erik blinked and thought about the question. It seemed odd until he realized he was shivering, even though he had a blanket around his shoulders. 

He had a blanket around his shoulders? Where had that come from? For that matter, when had he sat down on the couch? Erik turned his head to look at the man who was looking at him with such concern. It slowly came back to Erik. He had come to Charles' apartment because Logan was missing. He remembered throwing something..."What do I do?" he asked Charles, trepidation in his voice. "I threw—oh my god."

Charles shook his head, waving his hand dismissively in the direction of the kitchen table. "It's fine, Erik. I'm fine. You were upset." Charles was sitting on the other end of the couch, a safe distance away. 

Erik closed his eyes and sighed. He wasn't sure what exactly had happened, or why he had disassociated, but he remembered everything now. "Logan," he breathed. He glanced at Charles.

"I don't know where he is," Charles said quickly, his eyes wide and sincere. "But I will help you look for him, if you want."

Erik looked away from Charles and spoke flatly. "Why? You don’t want to associate with a dog fucker.”

Charles looked down, ashamed. "I was angry, Erik. I’m sorry I said that."

Erik frowned at Charles for almost a full minute, his mind whirring. “What?” he said finally.   
Suddenly he couldn't remember exactly what Charles had said when he left the other day. He'd said something about Erik fucking his dog...but maybe the phrasing of it wasn't quite what Erik remembered? Had he said “Fuck you and your dog”? Or had he said “You fuck your dog”?

Was it possible Charles didn't know about Erik and Logan after all?

_He must not know,_ Erik realized. Because Charles wouldn't offer to help Erik find Logan, wouldn't put a blanket around Erik's shoulders, if he knew the truth. 

Erik was frowning at Charles so intently, deep in thought, that he hadn’t noticed that Charles was fidgeting and babbling under Erik’s glare, and moving subtly farther from Erik. “...I know you two go to the park sometimes, we could check there, although we could call the animal shelter right now if you want—”

“The park,” Erik said. “Yes. Logan likes the park.” They hadn't gone that many times; Erik didn't feel comfortable dealing with the other overly-friendly dog-walkers, and Logan had been a little hard to control because he'd been really excited the couple times they had gone. 

Because Logan loved the park. Erik surged to his feet, surprising Charles, who hastily also stood up, taking a half a step backwards as he did. “Yes, I thought perhaps he did,” Charles agreed. He still seemed nervous and was standing more than arms’ length away from Erik. “We can drive there, if you want.”

“Yes,” Erik said. He and Logan always walked, but a car would be faster. He looked at Charles, feeling like he should thank him and _knowing_ that he should apologize. However, Erik felt that the enormity of what he had done required more apology than he could muster, and he was still adjusting to the idea that Charles didn’t know that Logan fucked him. So he just looked at Charles expectantly. 

Charles swallowed. “I’ll just go put on some jeans,” he said in a quiet voice, giving Erik a wide berth as he slipped past him to go into his bedroom. 

Fortunately, he dressed quickly. Neither man spoke as Charles came out of his bedroom and grabbed his keys. Erik followed him out of his apartment. 

**

Charles had a surprisingly nice car for someone who lived in the same apartment building as a garbage man, Erik thought. They were slowly and methodically driving to and around every parking lot at the large park in Charles’ car. Erik tried to stay present and keep his eyes peeled for Logan outside, but his mood was dark and he kept feeling himself turning inward. The concerns he had the night before about his relationship with Logan were bubbling up in him. What if Logan had left Erik because Erik was abusing him? 

_I won’t do it again,_ Erik promised himself silently. _If I can get him back, I won’t make Logan fuck me anymore._

“When did you notice he was gone?” Charles asked, his hands on the steering wheel, not looking at Erik. He spoke quietly, but the words were almost jarring in the silence of the car. 

“When I got home from work, about ten minutes before I came to your place,” Erik responded. “He was fine when I left this morning.” Erik didn’t say anything for a moment, thinking how Logan could have left at any point after Erik had left for the day. “My front door was open when I got home.”

Charles shot him a quick, surprised look. “ _Open_ open? How did that happen?”

_I thought it was you,_ Erik thought but didn’t say. He paused before responding. “I don’t know. The lock...I’ve been having trouble with the whole mechanism. I don’t know.”

Charles didn’t respond, although his grip on the steering wheel seemed to relax slightly. “I did notice it was much quieter than usual today. Was anything missing? Besides Logan, I mean.”

Erik shook his head, frowning slightly. He wasn’t quite sure what Charles meant by quieter than usual, but he addressed the question. “I don’t think so—well, I didn’t really look. I don’t own anything worth stealing. But it means…” Erik was thinking out loud. “Logan could have left at any point after I left for work. He could be...oh god, he could have left hours ago. He could be miles away by now.” Erik felt his hands clenching into tight fists, felt a spiraling blackness clutching at him...

“Erik, please. Breathe with me.”

Charles’ words startled Erik out of his train of thought. “What?”

The knuckles of Charles’ hands on the steering wheel were white, but he spoke evenly, not looking at Erik. “Take three long slow breaths with me. Please.”

Erik watched as Charles started to slowly inhale and Erik thought, what the hell, and breathed in with him. Erik watched Charles and breathed long slow breaths with him as the car turned into the last parking lot they had not yet visited that morning. _Charles’s hair would look better a little shorter,_ Erik thought irrelevantly as the two men took their last breath together. Charles’s hair was distracting, always getting in his eyes, he was always reaching up to push it behind his ears...

Charles turned his head to meet Erik’s gaze. “Better?” he asked. As if Erik had a headache, instead of fighting being sucked into his personal hell.

Erik was about to respond when Charles leaned forward suddenly like he had spotted something and then opened his door. “Logan!” he yelled. 

Erik was out of the car immediately and saw what Charles did: about a hundred yards away, a large man had a writhing black-and-brown dog at what looked like the end of a stick. “Logan!” Erik yelled. He heard a high-pitched yip that filled his heart with terror. He and Charles both started running toward the man and dog, full tilt. 

Erik stopped about twenty feet away from the two, with Charles just steps behind him. He could tell that the dog was definitely was Logan, albeit a very unhappy, snarling Logan. The man, in contrast, seemed happy and was even—laughing? 

Erik saw red and heard a ringing in his ears.

He felt a cool hand on the back of his neck. “Breathe,” Charles murmured to Erik. Charles stepped up to the stranger, who was now looking between Charles and Erik cautiously, not paying the fighting dog at the end of his stick any attention. 

“Excuse me,” Charles said. “That dog belongs to my friend. Please release immediately.” His voice was firm. 

The man’s eyebrows rose and he looked amused. He had at least six inches of height and probably eighty pounds of muscle on Charles, Erik realized. Erik stood taller and cracked his neck, glaring at the man. The threat was clear. The big man’s gaze snapped to him briefly, but Erik held himself still. Erik wasn’t afraid to take the man on, but the guy still had Logan at the end of a white stick of some kind. 

“Logan,” Erik said. Logan stopped thrashing and perked up, looking at Erik. It would have been almost comical except for the tension in the air. Once he stopped moving it was clear there was a loop at the end of the stick that was around Logan’s neck.

The man looked at Logan and then back at Erik. “Do you have any proof?” He asked. 

Erik stalked closer and was about to use his own two fists as proof when Charles said in a tired voice, “Of course he does, but obviously he doesn’t have it with him. We gave it to the police this morning, though, so I’ll just call them—”

“Fine,” the man spit out, to Erik’s surprise. He did something to the stick that released Logan’s head from the loop. 

Logan ran to sniff Charles briefly and then over to Erik. He sat in front of Erik panting as Erik knelt down and pet him, murmuring soft reassurances. Logan was shaking like a leaf. Erik couldn’t decide if he was more angry, relieved, or overjoyed about having his best friend back. 

“Your dog is pretty aggressive,” the man observed. Logan snapped his head around and growled at him. The man licked his lips and smiled slightly. “Do you want to sell him?”

“No thank you,” Charles said, while Erik simultaneously said “Fuck you.”

The man’s lip twitched like he was amused. “If you change your mind,” he said. Erik looked up to see that the man was holding a small card out to him. He ignored it, but the man kept holding his arm out until Charles snatched the card with a sigh. 

“I’m sure you’ll do a better job of securing him in the future,” the man said, whistling as he walked toward a white windowless van parked in the far corner of the parking lot. 

“Victor Creed, Creed Kennels,” Charles read out loud. He looked up at the man climbing into the white van. “What an asshole.”

“Why do you think he wanted Logan?” Erik mumbled, his attention absorbed in stroking Logan’s fur and soothing the tremors under his skin away. 

“I would guess for dog fighting,” Charles said. His voice was full of disgust. “That’s why people want aggressive dogs.” He turned to Logan and his voice went up and octave. “But I don’t think you’re aggressive! I think you’re a cute widdle puppy!” 

“Charles,” Erik said warningly. “Don’t talk to him like he’s—” _an animal,_ he almost said, until he realized how ridiculous that sounded. “—just, please, don’t,” Erik finished quietly. 

Charles was silent a moment. “All right.” The three of them walked back to Charles’ car and got in. 

The silence in the car was choking Erik. He sat in the back with Logan for the short ride back to their apartment building, not sure how to say what he needed to to Charles. When he finally did speak, of course it was all wrong. 

“Tell me how much,” he said. “And I’ll pay.” Charles frowned at him in confusion in the rearview mirror. and Erik tried to clarify. “For the damage. Your door, your dishes, your chair—”

“Oh,” Charles said in realization. He shook his head firmly. “No, no. Erik, that was nothing. Please don’t concern yourself.”

Charles pulled into his parking space and Erik noticed as he turned off the ignition that he was shaking. “Are you afraid of me?” he blurted out. 

“No,” Charles said, and then added, a bit humorously, “Why, should I be?”

“No,” Erik said. “But—you’re shaking.”

“Ah,” Charles got out of the car. “I just need a little hair of the dog, friend.” Erik gave him a puzzled look, not understanding the reference, looking over at Logan. Charles chuckled. “Not literally. I’m just a little hungover, but I have a hangover cure that will work wonders.” He gave Erik a large and insincere smile. 

Erik studied his face, not smiling back. He could guess that there was probably alcohol in Charles’ ‘hangover cure.’ He tried to think how to phrase his next question, not even sure that he wanted to ask it, but feeling that he should. “Do you—I can make—pizza bagels. We—it’s—dinner. Do you want to have some? With us.”

Charles’s fake smile had faded and was replaced first by confusion and then disbelief and then finally a real smile. “I haven’t had a pizza bagel in over ten years,” he said softly, still smiling. “That sounds wonderful.”

Erik nodded, not quite smiling himself. “Give me maybe 45 minutes to shower and change?” Erik suggested. 

“That sounds like an excellent idea,” Charles said. He gave Erik a big (and this time, sincere) smile before walking down the hall to his own apartment. 

Erik walked inside his apartment and shut the door carefully (so it would stay shut). He immediately began to doubt if he had done the right thing. He didn’t know what had possessed him to invite Charles over for dinner. Charles wasn’t his type and Moira didn’t want him seeing Charles. 

But there was something about Charles that made him feel safe, especially since Charles had tolerated Erik freaking out and had helped him get Logan back. However, that part that felt safe was battling the part of Erik that whispered _but Charles won’t be safe from _you_ , you monster. And after you hurt him, he will leave like everyone else._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Erik disassociates when he realizes Logan is missing, brief thoughts of violence against Charles.


	7. Pizza Bagels

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the long delay! I should finish this up in a couple chapters, probably within the next few weeks. 
> 
> Umm...this chapter is very dirty. Very very dirty. There isn't any non-con or even dub-con, but you might not want to read this over a meal. Check out updated tags, and/or summary in the end notes (contains spoilers)

Erik’s body went through the motions of showering perfunctorily while his mind spun out in every direction. What had possessed him to invite Charles over for a meal? That was practically a date. Maybe it was date.

“Is it a date?” Erik asked Logan while he toweled off. Logan barked happily.

_This is a bad idea,_ he told himself while he got dressed. And yet there was a part of him that was undeniably interested in spending more time with Charles. Despite that he was pushy and clearly had a drinking problem, Erik’s next-door neighbor also had a kindness in him that terrified Erik as much as it drew him in. 

The doorbell rang. 

Erik looked at himself in the mirror and took a deep breath. “It’s not a date,” he told his reflection. “We’re...friends.” 

The man in the mirror looked doubtful. 

Erik sighed and went to answer the door, Logan at his ankles, barking and happy. Charles had also showered and a curl of wet brown hair clung to the back of his ear as he kneeled to greet Logan enthusiastically. Logan licked his face and Charles laughed. 

_I wonder if he would be so charmed if he knew where that tongue has been,_ Erik thought. He smiled politely as Charles stood. 

“Come in,” he said, holding the door. Charles smiled brightly at him and Erik walked to the kitchen. He couldn’t think of anything to say, so he just got the bag of bagels he’d bought the day before out of the cupboard and started slicing them. 

Charles cleared his throat slightly, standing behind the counter, but looking into the kitchen. “So, pizza bagels,” he said. “Is this a favorite meal of yours, or just what you had handy?”

Erik shrugged, not looking at Charles. “A little of both. We do eat it a lot.”

“‘We?’” Charles asked. 

Erik looked at Logan pointedly. 

“You feed your dog pizza bagels?” Charles asked.

Erik looked at Charles, trying not to feel annoyed that he’d called Logan ‘your dog’ because that was technically accurate. “Yes, what’s wrong with that?”

“Ah, well, I’m just used to dogs eating dog food, I suppose,” Charles said. His brow was furrowed slightly, although he was still smiling.

“Dog food is disgusting,” Erik said flatly. 

“So you’ve tried it?” Charles asked, humor tinging his voice.

Erik didn’t answer, although in fact he had tried it. He started putting marinara sauce on the sliced bagel halves. 

“Can I trouble you for a glass of water?” Charles asked after a moment.

Erik had a sudden feeling of guilt for not being a good host, and he immediately felt defensive. Why should he know how to be a good host? It wasn’t like anyone had ever taught him. He thought he probably should have already offered Charles a drink, though. He turned to face Charles. “I don’t have any alcohol,” Erik said. 

Charles eyes widened and then narrowed slightly. “I didn’t ask you for alcohol,” he said in a clipped voice.

“I didn’t mean—” Erik pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m sorry. I’m not good at—I don’t ever have people over, I know I don’t say the right things—”

Charles face softened at Erik’s reaction. “Oh, no, please, it’s fine. I really did just want water.” 

Erik got a glass from the cabinet and filled it from the tap. He offered it to Charles with an apologetic grimace. Charles accepted it with a grateful smile. 

Erik turned back to the bagels and started putting pepperoni on them. One of the reasons he liked pizza bagels so much was because of the positive memories that he associated with them. “Sarah taught me to do this,” he said softly. He cleared his throat. “She was my foster mother. Well, one of them. For a little while.”

“You grew up in foster care?” Charles asked. 

Erik nodded, still focused on what he was doing. “Sarah was one of the good ones—or at least it felt that way at the time.” He put the pizza bagels in the oven and then wiped his hands on a towel. “I lived with her for two years, until her husband’s job was transferred to California.” Erik could still feel the pain of their leaving and suddenly wished he hadn’t said anything. Sarah and Dave moving to California and abandoning him to the New York State foster system was one of his more painful memories, perhaps because some of the best memories from his childhood were from the two years he lived with Sarah and Dave.

“I’m sorry,” Charles said softly. Erik looked at him and was surprised by the genuine compassion on his face. 

“You don’t need to be,” Erik said stiffly. “That’s not why I invited you over, to feel sorry for me.”

Charles frowned and cocked his head at Erik, a movement that echoed a mannerism of Logan’s just slightly. “I know that. I don’t feel sorry for you. But, since you brought it up, why did you invite me over?” Charles’ face was serious as he studied Erik’s face. 

“To thank you,” Erik said. “For helping me get Logan back.”

Charles came around the counter and Erik felt his heartbeat speed up. “But you already thanked me,” Charles softly. 

Erik swallowed. “I can’t—I’m not—I didn’t mean—you’re not my type,” he blurted out, trying not to feel cornered. 

Charles leaned back against the counter he’d just come around, giving Erik a little more space. He nodded. “You’ve said that before,” he said calmly. “But I am a very good judge of these things, and you are clearly attracted to me.”

Erik couldn’t deny it categorically, but he shook his head. “You can’t,” he whispered. 

“I can’t what?” Charles stood upright abruptly, his eyes bright and intense. “I can’t _what_?”

Erik licked his lips. The touch of belligerence in Charles looked good on him, but Erik tried to ignore it and remember what Moira had said. “You’re too—kind,” Erik said. “You’re too good for me.”

Charles blinked at him for a moment, his lips slightly parted, and then snorted. “I’m an alcoholic who has no conception of boundaries,” he said. “I’m lazy, unmotivated, I don’t actually _do_ anything—”

“I fuck my dog,” Erik said. 

Charles sucked in a breath, his eyes going wide. His eyes slid to Logan.

“I mean, actually, he fucks me.” Erik felt a little dizzy and he was breathing shallowly. His entire body was thrumming with tension and he couldn’t look away from Charles’ face.

Charles was quiet for a moment, breathing hard. He took a step closer to Erik. “Do you really think I didn’t know that?” he hissed. “Hearing you get fucked into my wall every night, a tub of butter in your bedroom that you use as lube—how stupid do you think I am?” His lips were tight, and he was giving Erik a look that wasn’t quite as disgusted as Erik had expected.

Erik felt the frisson of shame and arousal. He didn’t fully understand his own desire, but something about the idea of Charles sneering at him, of Charles being disgusted with him...something about that appealed to a dark part of Erik.

“Why did you tell me that?” Charles said urgently, his eyes searching Erik’s face.

“Are you disgusted?” Erik asked. He was breathing harder too and he could feel his cock getting hard in his jeans. 

Charles’ gaze slid down Erik’s body and his brow furrowed thoughtfully for a moment. He licked his lips and stood tall. “Very much so,” he said. “I think you’re a filthy fucking pervert.”

Erik swallowed. “Yes,” he said so softly it was barely audible. 

Charles eyed Erik up and down, and his eyes caught on the crotch of Erik’s pants. A smirk tugged up on one side on Charles’ mouth. “You’re getting off on this,” he observed.

There was no point in confirming it or denying it. The timer on the stove went off behind Erik and he looked at Charles, raising one eyebrow a fraction, a question in his eye. 

He was asking permission, and he saw the moment Charles realized it. 

“Leave it for now,” Charles said. He licked his lips again. “Take your cock out.”

Heart pounding, feeling somewhat stressed by the stove’s beeping, Erik unbuttoned his pants and pushed his boxer briefs down until he cock sprang out above them. 

Charles smiled in appreciation. “You have a lovely cock,” he said. “I think I’d like to look at it all evening. Button up, but leave your cock out.”

It took Erik a second to understand. He didn’t pull up his underwear, even though he felt the elastic pushing up on the bottom side of his cock, but he buttoned his jeans and left them unzipped, his cock sticking straight out, hard as a rock. His cheeks burned but he felt desperately aroused by Charles’ surprising dominance. He wanted Charles to use and abuse him; he wanted to feel worthless, good for nothing but as an object of sexual desire. 

“Lovely,” Charles repeated. He slapped Erik’s dick and Erik flinched. “That’s the most I can stand to touch the disgusting thing,” Charles said casually, with a smile on his face. “I suppose your dog has licked it, hmm?”

“Yes,” Erik said. The stove was still beeping. 

“Well, sucking it is out of the question then,” Charles said thoughtfully. “But I will do this—” he spat on Erik’s cock. 

Erik clenched his fists and closed his eyes at the action. He could feel the saliva sliding down the side of his cock, making it cold. 

“Better,” Charles said. “You are lucky I decided you were worthy of my spit, but I do like a wet cock.” He motioned with his chin towards the stove. “Go ahead and get dinner out of the oven.”

His cheeks burning with humiliation and desire, Erik turned around and got a potholder out of a drawer so he could take the pizza bagels out of the oven. His cock bobbed in the air, and he moved carefully so as not to burn it as he took the tray with the pizza bagels out of the oven and set it on the counter. “They need to cool for a few minutes,” he said, turning back around to face Charles. 

“Alright,” Charles said. “Well, I need to go get a drink from my apartment, so that’s fine. Get on your knees and put your hands behind your back.”

Erik knelt immediately and put his hands behind his back. Charles reached behind Erik on the counter, his crotch pressed into Erik’s face, and then stood back. He had a salt shaker in his hand. With a smile, he sprinkled some on Erik’s cock. “Call Logan,” he said softly. 

“Logan,” Erik said, looking into Charles’s eyes. 

Charles smirked. “I’ll be right back,” he said. “Don’t have too much fun without me.” He left.

Logan trotted into the kitchen curiously and sniffed at Logan’s cock. He gave Erik a clearly disappointed look, but licked his cock anyway, if somewhat less enthusiastically than usual. “Sorry, pal,” Erik said. He wondered what he was doing. Charles wasn’t his type.

Except here Erik was, panting on his knees, ready to do anything Charles asked. 

Charles came back into the room. He smiled to see Logan licking Erik’s cock. “You couldn’t even fucking wait for me,” he said. “What a dirty fucking whore.” 

Erik said nothing, although his arousal spiked at the words. He looked up at Charles. 

“Open your mouth, whore,” Charles said. Erik obediently opened his mouth. Logan licking his cock felt good and he hoped that Charles wanted him to suck his dick. 

“I could put anything in your mouth, couldn’t I?” Charles asked. “Close your eyes.”

Erik closed his eyes, his heart pounding, his mouth open. He heard a zipper and felt tense with anticipation of the taste of Charles’ cock on his tongue.

But it didn’t come. “What if I wanted to use you like a toilet?” Charles said softly. “What if that’s all I found you worthy of?”

Erik trembled but did not close his mouth. He was filthy, if Charles chose to use him that way, he deserved it—

The strong taste of marinara was jarring. “Chew and swallow, whore,” Charles said gently. Erik slowly chewed the bite of pizza bagel in his mouth. Charles whistled and Erik heard a soft thunk on the other side of the kitchen, and then the click-clack of Logan’s claws rushing in that direction. 

“Do you like when I call you that?” Charles asked conversationally, putting another piece of pizza bagel in Erik’s mouth. “Would you prefer I called you toilet? Or fucktoy? Or slave?”

“Whatever you want,” Erik said between bites. His eyes were still closed since Charles had not asked him to open them, and it helped him to lose himself the way he wanted. 

“Really? No preference?” Charles asked.

“More hitting,” Erik said. 

And after less a pause than he expected, he felt a strong slap across his face. 

“That’s enough eating,” Charles said. His voice sounded slurred, and Erik wondered if he’d eaten at all, or if he’d only been drinking. “Although maybe I’ll make you eat my ass. Stand up.”

Erik stood up and gasped as Charles grabbed him roughly by the cock. “Keep your eyes closed.”

Erik did, following the pressure Charles exerted on his cock to lead him into the bedroom. Erik was braced for it when Charles shoved him on the bed and turned him simultaneously, so he landed on his ass. “So you want to be used and abused,” Charles said, climbing on him and straddling his chest. “I wonder what you would let me get away with? You already fuck your dog, so I imagine there’s not a lot you won’t do. What if I fuck you in the ass, and make you clean off my cock with your mouth when I’m done? What if I tied you up and put an ad on Craigslist to let everyone know they can bring their dogs to fuck you?”

Erik was trembling with arousal. He didn’t know how much of it Charles meant. He didn’t know where his own limits were, but it certainly turned him on to hear Charles talk that way. Abruptly he was slapped hard, across the face. “Anything,” he gasped. 

He heard the distinctive sound of Logan’s nails on the hardwood floor of his bedroom. “Hello, doggie,” Charles said. “Unfortunately for you, his ass is mine tonight.” Erik was slapped again and Logan growled. Charles froze. 

“It’s okay, Logan,” Erik gasped. He forced his voice to sound pleasant. “It’s okay, Logan. He’s not hurting me.”

Charles chuckled dryly. “I suppose I’ll have to try harder, then.” The weight and scent of Charles was lifted off Erik’s chest. “Strip.”

Erik opened his eyes and saw that Charles had stood back to give him room to stand. He rolled up to his feet and took off his clothing as quickly and efficiently as he could. “Splendid,” Charles said. “Now undress me.”

Erik moved a little slower with Charles, first taking off his shirt over his head and then unbuttoning and dropping his pants. He even untied Charles shoes and pulled them off one by one. “Would you lick my feet if I asked you to?” Charles asked pleasantly. 

“Yes,” Erik said. “Do you want me to?”

Charles smiled and shook his head. “I’m ticklish.”

Erik stood up and Charles pulled him down by his chin and kissed him on the lips. Erik pulled back just before their lips touched, looking at Charles warily. Charles looked hurt for a split second, and then angry. He spat in Erik’s face. 

Erik closed his eyes and wished Charles hadn’t tried to kiss him. He immediately forgot his train of thought when his stomach was slapped hard. “I forgot for two seconds that you were a filthy fucking whore,” Charles said, his voice bitter. “I won’t be making that mistake again.”

Logan barked and growled. 

Erik didn’t say anything, even though he could feel Charles waiting for him to say something to Logan. 

“It’s okay, Logan,” Charles finally said in a baby voice. “I’m just getting your daddy ready for a hard fucking! But you know all about that, don’t you?”

Logan barked again, but this time it sounded less menacing to Erik. 

Charles pushed Erik down so that he landed on the bed on his back. “Here’s your butter,” Charles said, handing Erik the tub. “Go on, prepare yourself like you would for Logan.”

Humiliation prickled under his skin but Erik complied, shoving two fingers with a healthy dollop of butter on them up his ass and then stroking up and down his cock and balls until they were covered with a thin sheen of butter too. 

“Logan’s going to want—” Erik cut himself off with a gasp as he felt the familiar sensation of Logan’s dextrous tongue on his dick and balls. 

“I see no reason I can’t let him do most of the work,” Charles said. “I’m certainly not going to put that filthy cock in _my_ mouth.” Charles straddled Erik’s chest again, naked this time. “But your mouth is probably clean enough to be used.” He slapped his hard cock against the side of Erik’s face. “Open up.”

Erik opened his mouth and took Charles cock in while Logan continued to lick his cock and balls. Charles fucked Erik’s face for a few minutes until Logan started whining. 

Erik had kept his legs straight, not giving Logan the opportunity to fuck him from the front again considering what had happened the last time they did that. But he knew Logan well enough by now to know what Logan wanted. 

“I think he wants to fuck you, Erik,” Charles whispered, shoving his cock so deeply in Erik’s mouth that he struggled not to gag. “What do you think? Should I let this dirty animal fuck your asshole?”

_There’s no need to put Logan down,_ Erik thought but didn’t say. “Whatever you want,” he managed to say around the cock in his mouth. 

“What if we both fucked you in the same hole?” Charles grunted. “Are you that much of a whore, to allow that?”

Erik nodded. He wondered if he would say no to anything. 

Charles climbed off his chest. “Turn over,” he commanded. Erik turned over and Logan immediately started to mount him. His cheeks burned but he didn’t move. Maybe this was Charles’ kink? What were the odds of that?

“My god, he has a big cock,” Charles marveled. Erik almost laughed but didn’t because just then Logan’s cock sunk in and he started furiously pistoning his hips. “And wow, that was fast! I was going to—”

“He’s going to come,” Erik said hoarsely. He had a feeling Charles didn’t know about knotting. 

Abruptly Logan yelped and was no longer fucking Erik. Erik stiffened and snapped his head to the side. “What did you do to my dog?” he snapped.

“I lifted him off you,” Charles said, grunting, still holding Logan. “God, he’s heavy. That cock must weigh a ton.” Logan landed heavily next to Erik’s face and Erik felt two hands on his hips and a cock slide inside him. Charles did not waste any time and started fucking him immediately.

Erik lost himself in it, for a moment. Charles was fucking him hard and deep and rough and it was exactly how Erik liked it. When Charles started slapping his ass, it only added to Erik’s pleasure. 

“Put your left hand around your cock,” Charles ordered, breathless. “Is that the hand you usually jerk off with?”

“No,” Erik said, just a breathlessly.

“Good.” Charles thrust into him a few more times before he said, “How dirty are you really?” in a soft voice.

“Dirty as you want,” Erik grunted. 

“Logan still has an erection,” Charles said quietly, still fucking Erik, but slightly slower. “Turn your head to the right and open your eyes.”

Erik opened his eyes and saw Logan carefully licking his dick as he did sometimes after they’d fucked. It looked like he had knotted. There was a cloudy fluid oozing from the tip of his cock. 

“You want me to—” Erik could barely say it. He was horrified, disgusted...and yet, a part of him wanted to. “You want me to suck his dick.”

“It seems only fair, doesn’t it?” Charles asked, breathily, just behind Erik’s ear. “Don’t you want to suck his dick, to taste his come? The same dick that was just in your ass?”

“Logan,” Erik said, then swallowed. “Come here.” 

Logan stopped licking and looked at him, but didn’t move. 

Erik reached out with his right hand and pulled Logan closer to him by his haunch. Logan’s cock was close enough to Erik’s mouth that he could take it inside at that point, but he hesitated, and his stomach heaved when he thought about what he was contemplating. 

But it still turned him on. How something could make him want to vomit and still be arousing was something he thought he should probably talk to Moira about. 

His train of thought was derailed when Charles reached around and squeezed his cock tightly around the base. “If you want to come, you will put that dog’s filthy cock in your mouth,” he gasped. 

Erik did it, although not without having to suppress his gag reflex. Logan’s cock head was shaped very different than a human’s and felt softer than Erik expected. The tip of Logan’s dick was extremely wet with a viscous fluid that Erik supposed was his ejaculate, and it was still seeping out of Logan’s cock in a steady flow. Erik couldn’t bring himself to swallow, but he let the fluid accumulate in his mouth, trying not to gag, although it didn’t taste unpleasant.

Charles fucked him viscously and started jerking him off roughly. Erik was getting close when Charles hissed in his ear. “You fucking disgust me.” 

Erik came hard, with a loud cry, just as he let Logan’s dick slip out of his mouth. He let most of the dog’s ejaculate drool out of his mouth but hastened it along by spitting. 

“I haven’t come yet,” Charles said, slowing his thrusts. Clearly he had enough experience to know that many men found being fucked after they had come to be very uncomfortable. “Do you want me to stop?”

“No,” Erik rasped. He grabbed the headboard. “Fuck me hard. Come soon.”

Charles did as Erik said and Erik gritted his teeth against the discomfort. Fortunately, Charles was coming within a minute. Still, Erik couldn’t help but sigh a shaky breath of relief as Charles finally pulled out his cock. 

“I used a condom, in case you wondering,” Charles said from the bathroom. 

Erik carefully turned over, because his ass was a little sore. Logan was still on the bed next to him, panting. “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.” Erik saw a brief flash of a smile from Charles and it made him feel strange. Charles was still here, and acting so nonchalant about what had just happened. 

Erik felt exposed and climbed under his covers, buttery ass and all. He watched Charles from his bed, not knowing what he was feeling or what he should say. 

“I hope you don’t mind if I take a pizza bagel on my way out,” Charles said lightly. He was getting dressed. “I didn’t actually eat any earlier, and I’m sure they are still good cold.”

“They are,” Erik said distractedly. “You...you don’t have to go.”

Charles paused right after he had put his T-shirt back on. “You don’t want me to leave?”

Erik swallowed and shook his head. He still felt very naked and he pulled the covers up higher. 

“What about in five minutes? Or an hour? Will you want me to leave then?” Charles was looking at him seriously. 

“No,” Erik said honestly. “Maybe in eight hours.” He didn’t mean for it to be humorous, but Charles laughed like it was the funniest thing he’d heard all day. 

“What about Logan?” Charles said, sitting on the bed next to Erik. “Won’t he get jealous?” 

Charles probably intended that as a joke, but Erik frowned unhappily at the idea. “I don’t know,” he said finally. “He usually sleeps in here next to me, but he can sleep on the foot of the bed. Or the couch, I guess.”

“I think the couch,” Charles said, eying the dog, who was now sleeping. Charles licked his lips. “Will you kiss me?” he asked gently, adding hastily, “after you’ve brushed your teeth, of course.”

It was Erik’s turn to be amused, although he more snorted than laughed. “Yes,” he said. “When I did that, it didn’t mean—”

“You don’t have to explain yourself,” Charles said softly, then he chuckled lightly and put his head down for a moment, shaking it. “Well, not right now, if you don’t want to.”

“I want to shower and brush my teeth and sleep...with you, if you will.” 

Charles gave him a wide smile. “I will. And while you are doing that, I will have something to eat...and try to coax your dog onto the couch.”

Charles whistled and Logan woke up immediately, stretching briefly and then jumping off the bed to follow Charles curiously into the living room. 

Erik rolled out of bed and into his bathroom, brushing his teeth while he waited for the water in the shower to warm up. He didn’t know why he felt so good; he supposed that he should feel awful

He realized a few minutes into his shower that he hadn’t even noticed that Charles had called Logan ‘your dog’ instead of by his name.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Erik gets turned on by being humiliated. Charles figures this out and says a lot of filthy, humiliating things to him. Erik performs oral sex on Logan at Charles' urging.


	8. Bad Ideas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't think I need a content warning for this chapter, but please do let me know if you disagree and I'll put one. 
> 
> [UPDATE]: Huge thank-you to Kernezelda for her insights and time discussing this chapter with me; it was ENORMOUSLY helpful!

Erik had to work every other Saturday, but fortunately that particular Saturday was a day off. He woke early, around the time he usually got up for work, around 6:00am, because his mind was whirring. 

Charles was still sleeping next to him, curled on his side facing Erik, breathing evenly and quietly. Logan was at his feet (Erik wasn't completely surprised that he hadn't stayed in the living room after all), and something about that bothered him, but he couldn't put his finger on it. 

Charles though...Erik could feel the warmth emanating from him and he could feel the weight of him on the mattress. Erik suddenly remembered the night he'd held Charles on his side, all night long, to make sure he wouldn't choke on his own vomit. At the time he'd felt annoyed more than anything else, but now that kind of contact felt...desirable. 

"Turn over," he whispered to Charles. 

Charles breathing changed just slightly, but it was still too dark in the room for Erik to tell if his eyes were open. After a minute, he shuffled over so that his back was to Erik. 

Erik moved closer, wrapping an arm over Charles and matching the curve of his body. It felt nice. Really nice; stepping-into-a-hot-tub nice. Charles' hair smelled like shampoo and he was just a little bit squishy around his middle. His bottom was snuggled right up against Erik's crotch but Erik didn't feel aroused. He felt cozy and safe. 

Erik’s mind drifted and he found himself reliving the earlier parts of the previous evening in agonizing detail as the sun slowly came up: how he'd vandalized Charles' apartment in irrational anger, how Charles had taken him out looking for Logan anyway, how Charles had been able to get Logan away from the man who'd wanted to take him without violence. Erik realized that even if he had been able to locate Logan on his own, he would have followed his instincts and gotten into a fight with the man—his name was Creed, Erik recalled—and he would have certainly spent the next couple days in jail and it probably would have been a parole violation. Not to mention that Logan would have been stolen by a dog fighter.

Erik's arm tightened on Charles. "I'm sorry," he whispered. 

He didn't expect a response, but a few seconds later he heard a very mumbled and sleepy, "For what?"

"For threatening you. For throwing your chair," Erik said, his voice so quiet it was barely a whisper. 

Charles seemed to relax a little and sighed a little deeper into the curve of Erik’s body. "Apology accepted."

Charles was so warm and comfortable that Erik almost drifted off to sleep then, but a moment later Charles spoke. "I was afraid you were apologizing for being irredeemably filthy." His voice was still soft, with a teasing tone. 

"I’m afraid not," Erik said, smiling, even though he knew Charles couldn’t see. 

Charles wiggled and turned in Erik's arm until he was on his back, his hip pressed into Erik's groin, so he could see Erik's face. "Good morning," he said with a small smile. 

Erik studied his face without replying for a moment. He looked so impossibly young, with rounded cheeks and a smattering of freckles. His lips were dry and cracked, pale, but as Erik watched Charles licked his lips self-consciously and they started to get pinker. He was almost pretty, which Erik normally found off-putting in men. But Charles didn’t act like what Erik associated with ‘pretty’ men.

Erik felt uncomfortable with that train of thought. He rolled onto his own back and turned his head towards Charles. "Last night, you surprised me," he said. "I thought you were...I mean, I didn't think you could..." He couldn't think of a way to say it that wasn't somewhat rude. 

"You thought I was a bottom," Charles said promptly, a smirk curling his lips. "Well, I'm that too. As I told you once, I do pretty much everything in bed."

Erik tried to remember. "You told me that? When?"

"When you were on your balcony and I was on mine," Charles said. "Do you remember? A few weeks ago."

And then Erik did recall, vaguely; what he remembered better were some of the other things they talked about. His licked his lips, his mouth suddenly dry. "How long have you known about..." he looked in Logan's direction, towards his feet. 

Charles lifted his head a bit to follow Erik's gaze. "Ah. Well, pretty much since I saw that your go-to lube is a tub of butter."

Erik let his eyes rove over Charles while he thought about that. 

"I had a dog while I was growing up," Charles said slowly, his cheeks starting to color. "I've never told anyone this, but...I would sometimes put butter or peanut butter on my cock so she would lick it off." He ducked his head, suddenly shy. "I mean, that's as far as it went. I never...well, she couldn't, anyway, being a girl, but I mean...not that you are...erm..." Charles trailed off, his cheeks scarlet.

"Oh," Erik said awkwardly, not sure how he should respond to that. He felt his own cheeks heat up. "Well, Logan is the first—I mean, it's not like a fetish," Erik suddenly blurted. "I don't… _need_ to, uh, fuck a dog."

Charles seemed to recover some of his aplomb. He smiled slightly. "That’s good to know. I had thought it might be, until you told me last night."

Part of Erik desperately wanted to drop the subject, but his own sexuality was such a mystery to him that he couldn't help following up. "What do you mean?"

"Well, you were giving such mixed messages," Charles said casually, turning on his side, to face Erik. "You wanted to me be disgusted, but you were aroused."

Erik rolled his head to look straight up. He couldn't deny it, but he couldn't explain it, either. 

"I gathered," Charles said softly, studying Erik's profile, "That you get off on being humiliated."

Erik got gooseflesh at that moment, which was probably a coincidence, but he pulled the blanket up higher, under his chin. "I guess," he admitted. Charles' assessment wasn't incorrect, but it wasn't precisely on the mark. His chest started to feel tight. 

Charles pulled Erik's arm under his head and pillowed his head on Erik's shoulder. "I can work with that," he said, smiling, with a touch of smugness. 

Erik could feel the unpleasantness creeping all over his body; he could almost track its progress. His discomfort grew by the second.

"I don't think I ever got my kiss," Charles murmured, far too close to Erik's face.

Erik carefully pulled his arm out from under Charles' head. "I think it's been eight hours," he said. 

He didn't look at Charles' face, but he could feel the other man's body stiffen against him and then pull away a few seconds later. Erik's side felt cold when Charles got out of bed. 

Charles was out of his line of sight, but Erik could hear him moving around, presumably getting dressed. Erik imagined how Charles felt and his stomach clenched.

"I've reconsidered," Charles said in a clipped voice, still getting dressed. "I would like to be reimbursed for the damage to my home."

Erik sat up. "Charles," he said. Charles stopped and looked at him, his jaw set unhappily. Erik didn't have anything else to say, though; he couldn't explain why he'd said that, why he’d needed to get away from Charles at that moment. So he just looked down. 

"Right," Charles said. He sighed, sounding defeated. "I'll be going, then.”

Erik waited until Charles had dressed and left his apartment before he rolled over and groaned into his pillow. He’d kicked out and pissed off Charles, again, and he didn’t understand why he’d felt the need to do that. The more Erik thought about that, and about all the events and his actions of the previous night, the unhappier and more anxious he felt. After a few minutes, he grabbed his phone off the nightstand and texted Moira.

**Having a rough time. Can I see you today?**

He usually saw Moira on Mondays, but he knew she sometimes saw patients on Saturdays. She responded within a few minutes. 

**Yes. I have a patient at noon. You could come at 11?**

Erik sent a confirmation text and then reached down and hauled Logan up to cuddle with him. As Logan yawned with a high pitched whine, Erik curled himself around his best friend, closed his eyes tightly and tried to clear his mind enough to get a little bit more sleep. 

**

On his bus on the way to Moira’s office, Erk decided to tell her everything. Not because he particularly wanted to, but he felt like either what was going on with Logan or Charles might be a piece of the puzzle as to why he had acted the way he did; not only why he let his anger get the best of him, but also why he craved painful and degrading sex. 

Normally, at his appointments with Moira, Erik sat. But that day he walked in and immediately started pacing. She took it in stride, tucking her legs under her while she sat in her office chair. 

"There's some things I haven't been telling you," he started, still pacing, not looking at her. "Because I feel you won't approve, and I still think you won't, but I just don't understand _why_ I do some things I do and it's driving me a little crazy." 

"Does my approval mean that much to you?" Moira asked curiously. 

"Um," Erik stood still for a moment and took a deep breath in and out, the way Charles had done with him in the car the day before, before answering. He decided that he was going to be as honest as possible. "Yes. When I think about if I should do something, I wonder what you would think, and it's almost like...like you are the voice of my conscience." Erik started pacing again. 

"Okay," Moira said calmly. "What kinds of things invoke that?"

Erik exhaled hard and looked at her. "What kinds of things do you have to, well, report?"

Her eyebrows raised. "Oh. Um, well, if I think you are a danger to yourself or others, I am required to inform—”

"About animals," Erik interrupted, watching Moira, who blanched. 

"Have you been...hurting—Logan? Your dog?" she asked with an intensely knitted brow. 

"Hypothetically," Erik said emphatically, scrubbing a hand over his face, "Are you required to report it, if I was?" He didn't look at her. He was still pacing, but slower. 

"Hypothetically, no," she said softly. Erik glanced at her and saw such sorrow on her face that it made his stomach hurt. "However, abusing animals is a predictor of some much more dangerous—"

"I'm not sure it's abuse," Erik said, finally sitting down. He took a deep, slow breath in and out again and tried not to second-guess this decision. "Logan and I have been having sex."

Moira blinked at him, still frowning. "Okay," she said, then held up a hand as if to forestall any reaction Erik might have. "That didn’t mean—that was just an acknowledgement of what you said."

"It doesn't hurt him," Erik said quickly, looking at Moira. "And I don't fu—I mean, he, uh, penetrates me," Erik said. "And, um, he performs, um, oral sex on me. Although one time—"

"That's—" Moira held up her hand to Erik again, her eyes closed. She swallowed, then smiled a little before opening her eyes to look at Erik. "This is not something I was prepared for you to tell me," she said carefully after a moment. 

Erik wasn’t entirely surprised by her reaction, but she had never cut him off like that before. He found himself worrying at a hangnail with his teeth. "Is it—I mean, I know it is—it's bad, it's wrong, but am I hurting him?"

"Do you feel like you're hurting him?" Moira asked. She was clearly still unsettled. 

Erik frowned, considering. "No," he said slowly. "Not usually. He likes it, I mean, really, the first time was his idea."

"His idea?" Moira asked skeptically.

"He started licking me, you know, on my, um, penis," Erik said. His cheeks were feeling hot but he also felt oddly giddy that he'd finally told Moira. "But that’s not actually—I mean, also there's another thing."

"Another thing?" Moira asked, her voice higher in pitch than usual. 

"Charles," Erik said. He stood up and started pacing again and his words came out in a rush. "I know you didn't want me to see him, but I sort of have been, and I'm...he makes me feel...I mean, the sex is great, unbelievable, actually, but he's...he's just _good_ and I know he pretends he isn't but he _is_ and I'm just...not." Erik stopped and looked at Moira, surprised at the words that had just come out of his mouth. 

"This is the pushy neighbor with the drinking problem?" Moira asked wearily.

Erik stopped pacing and frowned at Moira. The more he thought what she'd just said, the angrier he felt. "You don't even know him," he snapped. "All you know is what I've told you."

"That's true," Moira acknowledged, with a touch more condescension in her tone than Erik appreciated. "And clearly you've found him less objectionable recently. I'm happy that you're making a connection with another human being, Erik. I know that's been hard for you since your wife left. But people with substance abuse problems—"

"Because that's a character flaw?" Erik challenged. He was standing above her, looming, his voice loud. "He doesn't deserve my lo—friendship, because he's an alcoholic?" 

"Erik," Moira said quietly. "Please, sit down."

Erik stood over her, his fists clenched at his sides, breathing heavily. "Telling you anything was a mistake," he said between clenched teeth. 

Her eyes went wide and the sorrow-filled expression returned to her face. "No, Erik, it wasn't. I want to help you."

"I'm trying to get better!" He shouted, making her jolt in surprise. "But it's not a fucking switch I can flip, Moira! Especially when I don't understand—" his sentence ended in a frustrated snarl. "Why do I want—" And he found that he couldn’t ask it, the thing he desperately wanted to know: why he liked what he did. He couldn’t say the words to Moira, who would never understand his craving to be hurt, to be humiliated, to be pushed to and perhaps beyond his limits.

"Because you don't think you deserve better," she said. 

Erik stared at her, his mouth slightly open, before he shook his head. "I don't," he whispered, and that was true, he knew, but again it wasn't the whole story. 

"But you do," she insisted, standing, pressing the advantage she saw in Erik's hesitation. "You are a good person, Erik. You have to believe that."

He thought about it. "No," he said flatly, turning away from her. "I get that it wasn't my fault that my mom was killed, or that I got tossed from foster home to foster home. It wasn't my fault when my daughter died of SIDS. It wasn't my fault that I got raped in prison. I actually get that, Moira. But what _you_ don't seem to get is that those things still fucked me up. And there's too much, Moira. There's too much to undo." He shook his head and gave her a hard look. "I'm not going to be one of your success stories."

Moira took a few steps towards him but stopped about two feet away, her face a mask of pain. "Erik, that’s not—"

There was a soft knock on the door and Moira snapped her head to look at the clock.

"Shit," she said under her breath. She looked at the door and sighed unhappily. "Erik, my next patient is here, but I feel like this isn’t a good place for us to leave off." She rubbed her forehead. "I know I didn't say all the right things today. But I care about you, and I want you to get better, and I know you _can_ get better, okay?"

Erik saw the sincerity in her face and wondered how long she had to practice that look in front of a mirror. He acknowledged her words with a curt nod and looked away.

"Can we keep our usual Monday evening appointment?” She asked him, not taking her eyes off his face even though he wasn’t looking back. “And in the meantime, don't have sex with Logan _or_ Charles? I mean that. You know I don’t like to play the ‘court-ordered-compliance’ card, but I do need you to comply on this.” She spoke gently but firmly and looked at him expectantly.

Erik huffed unhappily. He didn’t like anyone telling him what to do. But he figured he only had himself to blame; what else was she going to say to him, after he’d told her what he did? 

**

Erik went home and found tiny feathers scattered everywhere in his apartment, including floating mid-air, but at least Logan was there. He found the Rottweiler sitting in a pile of the tiny white feathers, chewing on the remains of a pillowcase.

“I guess you don’t like being here by yourself,” he said to Logan. Logan glanced at him for a moment and then went right back to destroying the pillowcase, using his paws to try and pull it out of his mouth.

Erik paced in his apartment. It was a Saturday; it was a nice day outside. He should take Logan for a walk or something, maybe to that park. 

Or maybe he should go kick in the teeth of the man who tried to steal him. A fight would feel good.

Erik saw the card the man at the park had handed to Charles sitting on his kitchen counter and looked at it for a moment before he tossed it in the trash. No, getting in a fight could lead to him going back to jail, and since he couldn’t take care of Logan if he was in jail, staying out of jail was just about Erik’s only motivation recently. 

That, and getting fucked til he couldn’t walk straight. 

Erik’s skin felt tight and itchy as he had that thought; overheated. He sat down on his sofa but couldn’t seem to get comfortable; that wasn’t that surprising, as Logan had destroyed nearly all the covering. He couldn’t stop seeing Moira’s face, the sorrow on it as she spoke to him, like she knew how hopeless he was. 

“Fuck,” Erik said loudly. Logan lifted his head to look at Erik briefly before making a whining sound and putting his head down. Erik rubbed his face. He wanted to forget that appointment, forget what he’d told Moira, forget that everyone left him because he was a complete fuck-up.

“I need a distraction,” he said out loud. He pulled out his laptop. The last webpage he’d had open was porn, and he opened the computer to see a page full of miniature gifs of huge men being roughly fucked by even bigger men. It was a virtual moving tapestry of violent sex and Erik let it wash over him. He thought of Charles from the night before, how Charles had slapped him across the face, the feel of Charles’ hand on his cock as he’d led Erik to the bedroom; how it had felt being wrapped around him that morning…

Erik forced his mind away from Charles. “I have to comply with therapy,” he said out loud, and clung to that reason. He shouldn’t think about Charles because Moira told him not to. No other reason. 

But now his dick was hard. Erik clicked a on a few video previews and watched them, putting a hand in his pants to rub up against his growing erection. He let his fantasies unfurl. What was the hottest thing he could imagine? A huge guy, someone burly and muscular, someone who would degrade Erik, use all his holes brutally…maybe two or more guys with the same inclinations; maybe a group who would mock and abuse and humiliate him together...

After a few minutes of masturbating, Erik realized it was going to be one of those days: he was having trouble achieving orgasm. It was rare, but happened occasionally when he had was particularly tired or stressed out. He made a frustrated sound. Logan slowly got to his feet and walked over to Erik. He looked at Erik’s hand around his dick and then looked at Erik’s face. His head cocked to the side.

“No,” Erik said gently. Even if Moira hadn’t told him not to, Logan wasn’t what he was in the mood for. 

He wanted what he always wanted, what he never quite managed to find: to get fucked and degraded by strangers.

Erik tried for the better part of an hour to talk himself out of it, but something Charles had said the night before had given him an idea: Craigslist. 

He decided to post an ad, but to browse the existing ads first. His jaw dropped when he realized just how many there were, and the variety. He narrowed his search by location and found that just within lower Westchester, there were several dozen ads. He searched the headlines until he found one that appealed to him: _Two built hairy guys seek attractive bottom to be our bitch, tonight only._ He clicked on the ad.

_You must be under 25, submissive bottom and very kinky, ddf/std free. Us: two bears, built and hairy. We host, use you for our pleasure. Looking for a dirty, kinky bitch, femme or not. We’re NOT into soft things (kissing, working out, massages etc). We’re into HARD things... rough sex, slapping/punching, bondage, piss/cum play, double penetration, etc. Your pics get ours._

Erik’s mouth went dry as he read the ad. That was almost exactly what he wanted. And they were in lower Westchester, which meant he could walk there. He studied the ad a moment more, chewing on the inside of his lip, before he went and took a picture in his bathroom, making sure it was a clear picture showing the (somewhat stubbly) bottom of his chin, his bare chest and stomach down to his his partially erect cock. It wasn’t the sexiest picture he’d ever taken, but he hoped it would do the trick. He emailed the picture with the terse text: _No bondage/restraints. Condoms for anal._

Within minutes, he got two pictures back: One of a built, hairy chest and another of a man with more of a belly than the first man, but the second picture included a slightly blurry but erect cock. There was an address and the text: _Fine. Shave everything. Be here in an hour._

Erik mapped the location and saw that it was an estimated 40-minute walk. He would be cutting it close on the time. He showered and shaved his groin and chest like he was on auto-pilot, his body going through the motions while his mind screamed. He was sure that Moira would tell him this wasn’t a good idea, but since she technically hadn’t told him not to, he shouldn’t be at risk of not cooperating with therapy and thus violating his parole even if he did tell her. But there was also a current of fear in him, anxiety that this would somehow go horribly wrong. “I can do this,” he said out loud in his shower, through gritted teeth, as water coursed down his body. “I can do this.” 

He put negative thoughts out of his mind. _I don’t know why I didn’t try Craigslist sooner,_ he thought, as he shaved his face, looking at himself in the mirror. And then he remembered where the suggestion had come from: that offhand comment Charles had made the night before. 

Charles, who had snuggled into him that morning. 

Erik shook his head sharply and then hissed as he cut himself on the chin. The sharp pain was good, focusing. He wanted more of it. He _needed_ more of it. 

“I’m going to get more of it,” he told his reflection. 

When Erik exited his bedroom, Logan barked at him and ran around the sofa. “Oh, right,” Erik said. Erik smelled something unpleasant and sniffed—the living room smelled like dogshit. Erik sighed and realized he had not taken Logan on a walk that day. Well, it was something he’d have to deal with when he got home. “Can’t you learn to use the toilet?” he asked Logan rhetorically. Logan whined and jumped up on the sofa. His tail was wagging but it was not up like usual; it was down. 

“I’ll be back late,” he told Logan. It was early evening and since it was late summer, the sun was still out. He grimaced as he remembered that Logan needed food and rummaged through the refrigerator and found some pizza that was only a few days old. He put it on a plate on the kitchen floor. “You’re eating by yourself tonight, pal.”

Logan looked at the pizza and then looked at him and barked. Erik frowned, because something in Logan’s gaze made him feel guilty. “Sorry,” he muttered. “We’ll go for a walk tomorrow.”

He slipped out the door, being careful to make sure it shut. He hadn’t gotten the lock repaired yet, but he made sure the door mechanism engaged so that Logan couldn’t get out. 

It felt uncomfortably for a moment like Logan was his prisoner. 

He shook off the feeling and turned to go—only to see Charles entering the building, obviously returning from the store since he was carrying a brown grocery bag that clinked like glass-on-glass with every step he took.

“Well, look at you,” he said admiringly. Erik was wearing an old pair of ripped jeans (no sense in ruining a good pair, after all if things got really rough) that fit him tightly. He was also wearing a tight black T-shirt simply because it looked good. Charles swept his eyes up and down Erik and then his smile faded. “Going out?” he asked, with a raised eyebrow. 

“Yes.” Erik looked at Charles for a moment and realized that he had nothing else to say. He gave Charles a tight smile and a nod and left.

It was slightly more than a mile walk. Erik had time to think as he walked, and he knew what to say when he reached small house. He knocked before he could second guess his decision. 

The door opened to reveal a large, bearded man who was a fraction more attractive than Erik had been expecting. “My safeword is Logan, “ Erik said without preamble, looking the man in the eye. He was perhaps an inch taller than Erik. “I don’t like being tied up or held down. Condoms for anal. Oh, and I don’t want to lose consciousness.”

The man raised an eyebrow. “Is that all?” he asked, his eyebrows up. 

Erik nodded. “Everything else in your ad is fine,” he said. His throat was dry and it was hard to say the words for some reason. 

The man smirked at him and looked him up and down. “You’re late,” he said, and jerked his chin to indicate Erik should come in.

Erik stepped inside and in the same motion that the man shut the door, he punched Erik in the face. Erik went into a crouch and put his face in his hand for a second, letting the pain flow through him. He slowly raised his gaze, staying crouched down. 

The man grabbed his chin roughly and pulled him into a standing position. He peered suspiciously into Erik’s eyes. “You’re not on drugs,” he said approvingly, looking at Erik’s pupils. Another man came into the room then, a much larger and less attractive man. Erik glanced at him until the first man yanked his chin towards him again. “Eyes here, bitch. No names. And we don’t like little piggies who squeal out their safeword every five minutes, either.” 

Erik licked his lips. “That’s not what I’m here for,” he said. He didn’t have an erection yet, but he was sure he would soon.

The first man turned to look at the second man. “He can take a punch,” he said significantly, with the hint of smirk. 

“Good,” the second man grunted. “Strip, and get on your hands and knees. Chop chop!”

**

Erik left the apartment later than he thought he would. He had gotten what he’d expected though: the men used and degraded him thoroughly, with little regard to how he felt about it. He hadn’t climaxed all night. They hadn’t offered him a shower before he left, either, so he reeked of cum and piss. At least it had mostly dried by the time he got dressed.

It was around midnight, he supposed; the battery in his phone had died by the time the men had finished with him. It was cold outside, and he didn’t have a sweater or jacket with him. He wrapped his arms around himself in a futile effort to preserve warmth.

He could hear their jeers and laughter echoing in mind. Erik felt like he couldn’t think in a straight line. He’d gotten what he wanted, so why did he feel so shitty? He’d said his safeword a couple times, which had clearly displeased the men, but they’d honored it. He’d had more abuse heaped on him that night, both verbal and physical, than he’d ever experienced before...the exception being an occurrence in jail that he refused to contemplate. 

And he’d asked for it. So why was he crying?

He wiped the tears away on the back of his hand, feeling like a child. He wanted to stop walking, which was slightly painful anyway, considering how brutally his ass had been used that night, but also wanted very much to be home, and to see Logan…

Logan, whom he hadn’t taken for a walk all day. Logan, his 100-pound pet who had only had one meal of three-day-old pizza that day. “Jesus Christ,” he whispered to himself, forcing himself to limp faster. 

**

When he finally reached his apartment, he didn’t bother to unlock the door, since he had never locked it to begin with. His apartment felt emptier than it should be. “Logan?” he said, even as he realized that Logan would have come running up to him immediately if he were there. 

He knew where Logan was. Erik scrubbed a hand down his face, feeling the stiffness of dried cum there. He should shower...but he wanted to see Logan as soon possible. 

And, even though it was a bad idea, he wanted to see Charles.

He went out his front door and walked towards Charles’ apartment where the door was ajar. The apartment building hallway was dark but he could see warm yellow light spilling out of Charles’ door.

“Erik?” 

Erik stopped about a foot away from the door, sheltered by darkness. Charles’s door was chained so that it only opened a few inches. Erik saw one blue eye peering out at him above a flushed pink cheek. “You have Logan,” he said. It was a statement, not a question. 

“Are you going to threaten me, like yesterday?” Charles asked, his voice sharp. 

Erik shook his head. “I just…” his breathing caught in his throat and for some reason sounded like a sob. “I just need…”

Charles frowned and unlatched the door and opened it all the way, cautiously, his eyes widening as the light from inside spilled over Erik. “My god, Erik, what happened to you? Did you get attacked? Oh my god.” His last three words were clearly about the smell emanating from Erik, since he made a disgusted face and took a step back, covering his mouth and nose. 

Erik looked down. He had nothing to say. Logan came the the door, tail wagging, but stopped and sniffed the air before he passed the threshold. His lips curled up to reveal his teeth as he looked at Erik and he made a low growling sound.

“Logan,” Erik said, with an ache in his chest. Logan’s ears perked up and he cocked his head at Erik and then whined, and yipped. He backed up inside Charles’ apartment and disappeared out of Erik’s sight.

Erik looked at Charles helplessly. 

“I’m too drunk for this,” Charles said unhappily, then sighed. When he spoke again, he was using a careful and controlled voice. “I want you to come inside and go directly to my bathroom, alright?” His words were spoken carefully, as if he was working to pronounce them correctly. 

Erik nodded, too ashamed to look Charles in the eye but pathetically grateful that he was being invited inside. Charles’ apartment was the same layout as his, so he went directly to the only bathroom. Logan was sitting on the floor in the living room, and he lifted his head curiously and sniffed and Erik walked by, growling softly to himself. 

“Hush, you,” Charles said absent-mindedly to Logan as he went to get something from the kitchen. Erik reached the bathroom and just stood there for a moment, his mind blank. He had just decided that Charles probably meant for him to take a shower when Charles came into the bathroom too, a big black plastic bag held open between his hands. 

“Strip,” Charles said matter-of-factly. Erik’s eyes widened for a moment, and he looked at Charles, remembering a different voice saying that to him just a few hours before. Then he lowered his eyes and nodded. He toed off his shoes then took off the rest of his clothes, wincing at some of the movements required to accomplish that. He put the shoes on the floor but put all his clothing into the bag. He saw Charles eyeing some of the marks and bruises on his body, and he belatedly thought that he probably looked like he’d gotten beat up. 

Erik started to step into the shower when Charles spoke, closing his eyes and raising a hand. “Wait. I’m sorry, I’m not—well, I’m not really sure what’s going on here. Do you want me to call the police? I mean...you don’t need, ah, to have a rape kit done?”

Erik tried to make a sound like a laugh, but it came out more as a forced exhale. “No police. I wasn’t raped. I asked for this.”

Charles didn’t respond for a moment. Erik glanced at his face and saw hurt, which was quickly smoothed away. “I guess I wasn’t enough for you,” he said with forced lightness. 

“No,” _you weren’t,_ he should have said. “You were perfect,” he said instead. 

Charles eyes went wide with surprise and confusion. 

Humiliatingly, Erik felt a tear slide down his cheek and he brought up a hand to quickly wipe it away. Charles didn’t miss the motion and looked at Erik with what seemed to be frustration more than anything else. After a moment, Charles moved past him to turn on the shower, then motioned for Erik to step in. 

He handed Erik soap and a washcloth around the clear glass barrier. “I’ll give you some privacy,” he murmured. 

“No,” Erik said, more sharply than he intended. He swallowed. “Could you—just stay in here? Just talk to me?”

“Oh. Yes, that’s—alright,” Charles said. He sat down on the closed toilet seat, facing Erik, watching him shower. “Logan didn’t get out,” Charles blurted after a moment of silence. “He was making so much noise in your apartment, howling and barking and scratching, that I went to get him. Your door wasn’t locked.”

“The lock is broken,” they both said at the same time. Erik was bent over and washing his legs, but he made eye contact with Charles through the blurry glass and they both smiled slightly, before Charles continued talking, now averting his eyes from Erik.

“Well, anyway, he seemed to have a lot of energy, so I found a leash for him in your apartment—I think he left an unpleasant surprise for you there somewhere, by the way—and we went to the park. Oh, he loves the park, Erik! He knew exactly where he wanted to go; he was practically dragging me to the little dog park in the corner of the park. I didn’t even know it was there! So I took his leash off him and let him play with some other dogs...he got a little rough, but no real damage done. We left at sunset, and he came with me on some errands. I got him some real dog food.”

Erik had been letting the sound of Charles’ voice wash over him with the water. There was something soothing about the chatter. But Charles seemed to say the last part with a particular emphasis and Erik sighed and shut off the water. “You fed him what?” 

“It was the highest quality I could buy, I even asked the clerk,” Charles said placatingly. “But honestly, Erik, dogs need protein. Have you been feeding him all carbs?” He handed Erik a towel. 

“Um,” Erik said as he towelled off, thinking about what he and Logan ate. Pizza bagels, pizza, Frozen burritos, eggs…”Not _all_ carbs,” he mumbled. 

“You haven’t noticed how fat he’s gotten?” Charles said disapprovingly. 

Erik handed the towel back to Charles, not sure what else to do with it since he was done with it. “Honestly, I thought it was all the butter.”

Charles looked at Erik with an open mouth and then chuckled. “I suppose it could be that too.” He glanced at Erik, taking in some of the bruises on Erik’s hips before he jumped upright suddenly and then steadied himself with a hand on the bathroom counter. “Clothing. Sorry! I’ll get you something to wear.”

He came back in seconds with sweatpants and a T-shirt. Erik donned them gratefully, and then looked at Charles. “Why are you so nice to me?” he asked. 

Several expressions crossed Charles’ face before he responded. “That’s the question, isn’t it,” he said finally, with a twist to his lips. He looked at Erik, his eyes lingering on Erik’s throat and neck. Erik remembered the stubby fingers that had squeezed him there a few hours before, tight enough to partially constrict his air supply. He touched his neck self-consciously, imagining that it must be covered with bruises, but not wanting to look in the mirror in front of Charles.

“Have you eaten dinner?” Charles asked softly. “I have some leftover Chinese food.”

The thought of food was a little nauseating, but Erik could tell his body needed sustenance. “That’s—yes. Thank you.”

Logan wagged his tail when he saw Erik, as if he hadn’t growled at him five minutes earlier. Charles indicated with a gesture that Erik should sit on the couch. He sat down and Logan immediately jumped up next to him. 

“Logan, down,” Charles said commandingly from the kitchen. 

Erik was almost offended on Logan’s behalf, but the Rottweiler got down off the sofa without protest, instead sitting at Erik’s feet. 

“I don’t really mind him on the sofa, but if we’re about to eat...” Charles said apologetically as he brought several Chinese take-out containers set it on them on the coffee table in front of the couch. 

“Logan ate earlier,” Charles said pointedly when Erik looked at Logan in hesitation after he had served himself. Logan whined and put his chin on Erik’s knee anyway.

“No,” Erik said to Logan, and the big dog sat back and looked at him. He had never really said ‘no’ to Logan before and it felt uncomfortable.

“Logan, lie down,” Charles said. Logan did, after Charles said the command again. 

Charles turned on the television and they ate in silence, watching some situation comedy filled with happy young white people with ridiculous invented problems and a laugh track. Something about the situation reminded Erik of Magda, but he couldn’t put his finger on what. When they were done eating and the food put away, Logan looked at Erik expectantly, his tail wagging. 

“Can he sit on the sofa now?” Erik asked. 

“Yes, that’s fine,” Charles said softly, watching Erik. Erik only had to pat the sofa next to him once before Logan had eagerly jumped up to be next to him, on the other side of him from Charles. 

Exhaustion hit Erik and he leaned over Logan, putting his weight on the dog. Logan shifted to accommodate. He smelled slightly different, Erik realized; a little like soap. “Did you give him a bath?” He mumbled curiously to Charles, turning his head to look at the other man. 

“Personally? No. But I did take him to a dog groomer.” Charles said it almost defensively. Erik wanted to respond in kind but he didn’t have the energy. He felt suffused with the same feeling of cozy safety he’d felt that morning, despite his bruises and soreness. He curled towards Logan as his eyelids drooped and soon he was nodding off.

Erik awoke abruptly. He was still on the Charles’ couch, curled over a sleeping Logan. The lights and TV were off and he was shivering slightly. 

He got up and walked to Charles’ bedroom. The door was wide open. He stood in the doorway, hesitating, swaying slightly, unsure of his welcome. There was enough light that he could see Charles’ shape in the bed. Charles stirred after a moment and spoke, his voice thick with sleep.

“Is everything alright?”

Erik hesitated a moment more before moving towards the bed and getting in it next to Charles, pulling the covers up to his chin. His body thrummed with the stress of his own audacity: he wouldn’t blame Charles for kicking him out, considering everything that had happened in the past two days. Charles sighed and reached a hand out to him. He stroked Erik’s shoulder briefly, almost like he was petting him, and then started to withdraw his hand. Erik caught it. Feeling more than a little foolish, he brought the back of Charles’ hand to his face and kissed it gently. He felt like he owed him that much at least.

“Erik…” Charles sighed again and rolled onto his back, not pulling his hand away. “We need to talk tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay,” Erik whispered, pathetically grateful at the unspoken implication that he was allowed to stay. He wanted more touching Charles; he wanted to wrap Charles around his back, the opposite of how they’d been that morning. But he didn’t know how to ask for that, and didn’t think he deserved it anyway. 

He kept ahold of Charles’ hand, though, and fell asleep for what felt like only a few seconds before he was awakened by Logan licking his face and noticed that the sun had come up outside. 

He snuck out and back to his apartment in the early morning gloom without waking Charles up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of the research for this chapter involved looking at "men seeking men" Craigslist posts in New York. And if you think this fic is dirty WOW you should look there, lol. https://newyork.craigslist.org/search/m4m.


	9. Anne-Marie

Erik went back to bed after arriving back at his apartment; he’d only gotten a few hours of sleep in Charles’ bed, after all. He was awakened again by his cell phone ringing a few hours later. 

“Moira,” he mumbled in the receiver, after he glanced at who was calling. Logan, next to Erik on the bed, opened his eyes briefly but then closed them again.

“Hi Erik. I’m sorry, did I wake you?”

“It’s fine,” Erik said, clearing his throat and sitting up on his elbows. “What’s up?”

"Well, I was a little worried about you after our appointment yesterday morning. How are you doing?"

Erik hesitated. He knew lying to Moira was counter-productive, but he wasn't prepared to talk about his questionable activities from the night before when he had just woken up. "I'm better today," he finally said, evasively. 

“Okay,” Moira said slowly. He probably wasn’t fooling her at all, Erik thought. She sighed and then continued. “Well, the other reason I called is to ask if you can bring Logan with you to your appointment tomorrow evening.”

Erik was immediately fully awake. He put his hand on Logan’s back protectively. "Why?" He asked tersely.

Moira was quiet a moment, "You have to know that I'm concerned about what you told me yesterday," she said gently, after a pause. "I'd like to meet Logan, and see how you two are together; see how you interact."

_You want to see if I'm hurting him, so you can take him away,_ Erik thought, bitterly. He'd be damned if he'd let that happen. He cleared his throat and tried to sound calm. "I understand," he said in what he hoped was a normal voice. "It's just that I have to take the bus to your office after work, and I would have to go home and get him, and I can't take him on the bus, and I can't take him to work with me, either." These were actually true complications, fortunately. 

"Okay," Moira said slowly. "I can see how that would be difficult. Well...maybe you can you bring any documentation you have for him?”

“Documentation?” Erik asked, his brow furrowing. The only ‘documentation’ he had regarding Logan was the letter Moira had written for him to give to the apartment manager. And it struck him that that Moira could retract that letter at any time. His blood went cold. 

“Veterinary reports, adoption forms, dog license registration forms from the county, anything like that,” Moira said. Her voice was professionally casual. 

Erik could feel rage simmering in him. He didn’t have any of those things and he suddenly felt like a fool. “What the fuck, Moira? You want to take him away from me? Logan is the first person I’ve cared about in a long time. He needs me and I need him. You want me to stop fucking him, fine, I will. I haven’t. But don’t threaten me with taking him away!” Erik’s voice had increased in volume throughout his diatribe and he found himself out of bed and pacing. Logan was looking at him with his head cocked to the side, as if he were trying to understand. 

Moira didn’t say anything for a long while, before she sighed and spoke carefully. “Erik, if you care about Logan, you want what’s best for him, right? I haven’t decided anything yet, but I really need to get a better picture of how you interact with him. Maybe we could have the appointment at your apartment tomorrow?”

“Fine,” Erik said tersely, and hung up. 

Erik walked into his living room and saw the destroyed couch, the chewed kitchen cabinets; the feathers that were still everywhere from the pillow Logan had destroyed the day before. He noticed Logan’s water dish was empty a split second before he heard Logan drinking out of the toilet. “I’m what’s best for him,” Erik said loudly. Logan trotted into the living room and barked. 

Erik hung up the phone and kneeled to hug Logan. He felt a huge lump in his throat. “I’m not going to let her take you away,” he whispered to the Rottweiler. Logan licked the side of his face. “I’ll do better,” Erik promised Logan, rubbing him affectionately behind the ears. He took a deep breath and stood up. 

“I need to clean,” he told Logan. “But let’s start with a walk.” 

Logan barked excitedly and ran in a circle, then jumped and barked again. Erik smiled despite himself, feeling a warm bloom of affection for Logan. 

**

Although he usually just took Logan to the strip of grass next to the sidewalk in front of his apartment building to do his business, Erik remembered what Charles told him about the park and decided to go there instead.

Logan seemed to know where they were going and he was so excited that Erik could barely keep ahold of his leash. Erik didn't have to wonder where the small fenced dog park Charles had mentioned was; Logan knew, and pulled him directly there. When they got there, Erik read the signage, bemused. He could legally take Logan off his leash here, apparently. There were a few other dogs there but Erik decided to risk it, despite Logan’s usual aggression with other dogs. He watched with some trepidation as Logan immediately ran up to each dog and sniffed it thoroughly before huffing in disappointment. Then he sniffed every inch of the perimeter of the small dog park enclosure. 

Erik sat down on a bench and watched Logan with interest. He had never seen Logan so driven about something before. Normally he was happy to do what Erik wanted, but now he seemed like he was looking for something. 

A moment later Logan met an Irish setter and went crazy, jumping and barking. Erik stood up in alarm. If Logan was attacking...

But as Erik walked closer to the commotion, he saw that Logan was reacting with affection. In fact, it almost looked like he was trying to mount the setter. "Logan," Erik said sharply.

"Oh my god!" The exclamation was from a young woman standing nearby; a brunette with white streaks in her hair. "Logan!" She knelt and Logan ran to her.

Erik jogged the few steps necessary to reach Logan's collar. "I'm sorry about him," Erik said. 

The young woman looked at him. Her eyes immediately flicked between his black eye and the marks on his neck and Erik belatedly realized how beat-up he looked. He felt like he should have some kind of explanation for that when he noticed tears glistening in her eyes. "You found Logan," she said softly. Logan was trying to lick her face.

Erik pulled Logan back by his collar and snapped the leash back on. "How do you know his name?" he asked, even though he regretted the question the minute it came out of his mouth. 

"Because I gave it to him," the girl said, standing slowly and keeping her eyes on Logan until she was fully standing, when she looked at Erik's face, her chin held high. "I named him after a comic book character. The weird part is actually how _you_ know his name."

Erik stared at her, his mouth set in a tight line, his body tense. He thought about how he'd learned Logan's name; the woman at the county animal shelter had told him. 

Erik frowned. Clearly the woman at the shelter had seen this woman's dog and decided to call the Rottweiler that showed up at the shelter Logan because of the similarity. His Logan couldn't belong to this woman; the woman at the shelter had said he'd belonged to a dog fighter, hadn't she? "It's a coincidence," Erik said tightly. "C'mon, Logan." 

Logan, however, was whining and trying to jump on the girl. Erik jerked on his leash and Logan yipped. 

The girl took a step closer to him. Her lips were tight and her eyes were intense. "That's _my_ dog," she said, softly but intensely. "I can prove it. He's got a microchip."

Erik scooped up Logan in his arms with a grunt, surprised at his weight; Logan was not a tall dog, but he was dense. "We're leaving."

He walked out of the fenced dog park, grunting with nearly every step. The girl didn't follow. Logan was whimpering looking over his shoulder, but Erik gritted his teeth and kept walking. "Charles may be right about the carbs," he said under his breath.

Erik heard footsteps behind him and huffed in irritation. The girl was back, now with her Irish Setter on a leash. "I lost Logan months ago," she said, now with a tone of desperate pleading in her voice. "This is his...well, sort of his mate, Jean. Please, can we talk for a minute?"

Erik glanced at the Irish setter that the girl indicated. Logan was whining in his arms, trying to squirm out of Erik's grasp. Erik felt overwhelmed and wanted to scream or hit something, but he couldn't risk hurting Logan.

He also realized he couldn't continue to carry Logan. The dog was too heavy for Erik to get him all the way back to his apartment that way, and he wouldn't hold still. Reluctantly Erik put the dog down and turned to face the girl. 

She took a step back, as she had clearly not been expecting him to turn around, and looked up at him in alarm. Erik was more than a head taller than her and he had instinctively adopted an aggressive stance. Considering the marks he still bore, he was sure he looked intimidating. He didn't say anything, he just looked at her. 

She bit her lip. "Just—I—look, I can tell you care about him. I don't know how you have him but just...take my number, okay? I have a house with a big yard. We miss him." Her voice broke on the last word and she pushed a piece of paper at him. The paper had a hastily scrawled "Anne-Marie" on it with a phone number. 

"I told you, the name is a coincidence," Erik said but felt his ears go hot when he saw Logan barking excitedly at the Irish setter, his tail wagging furiously. 

He crumpled up the paper and dropped it. "Leave us alone," he said bluntly. He yanked on Logan's leash and started walking quickly towards his apartment. He was vaguely aware that the girl was following from a distance but he ignored her. Terrified thoughts bombarded his mind and he couldn't think straight. Moira wanted to take Logan away. This new person, Anne-Marie, wanted to take Logan away. Why couldn't people just let them be happy?

Since he was being followed, he took a detour to the pet store, where Logan was allowed inside as long as he was on a leash. He bought the highest quality dog food he could and then nearly choked at the register when he saw the price. He'd bought about a week's worth of dog food, and when he did the math in his head he realized that would not be sustainable; he simply didn't earn enough.

"I'll just have to research and find stuff that doesn't cost as much," Erik told Logan. Logan wagged his tail at him but it seemed more listless than usual. 

When Erik left the pet store, he was happy to find that he couldn't see the girl or her dog anywhere. However, his neck kept prickling like someone was watching him, and right when he got to his apartment building he saw he saw them: about a block back and across the street. He swore under his breath and closed the exterior hallway door forcefully. At least she didn't know what apartment he lived in.

Inside his apartment, he felt like the walls were closing in on him. He fed Logan after realizing guiltily that it was already the afternoon and he was just eating his first meal of the day. Then he started cleaning as best he could. 

He didn't have a vacuum cleaner, but he had a broom. It turned out that cleaning up thousands of tiny feathers with a brook was not terribly effective, but he did make progress. He covered up the wrecked couch with a spare blanket and eyed the kitchen cabinets thoughtfully. Maybe he could paint them?

He decided to get paint later. After he finished eating, Logan was taking a nap on Erik’s bed. Erik did use the time to clean up the rest of his apartment and felt oddly a little bit better after that. True, multiple people wanted to take Logan away from him, but at least he could control whether or not his apartment was clean. 

**

Later that Sunday, in the early evening, Erik was outside with Logan waiting for Logan to finish his business when he saw Charles come out of the building. Erik's heart leaped a little just at the sight of the other man. He felt trepidation at the thought of the ‘talk’ Charles had said they need to have, but also...Charles was dressed in a suit and looked gorgeous. Erik let out a wolf whistle and Charles gave him a small tight smile in return. 

But...a suit? On a Sunday evening? Erik frowned. Did Charles have a date? Erik’s trepidation twisted into something else instantly. "You going somewhere special?" he asked, before he thought better of it. 

"No," Charles said. He seemed about to say something else, but at that moment a dark car with tinted windows pulled up. Charles looked at Erik for a moment with his mouth open, as if he was about to say something else, then pressed his lips together and looked down. He turned and got into the back of the car. 

Erik watched the car pull away, confused and bothered. So Charles had a rich boyfriend, or something? How many people send a car for a date? Although the way Charles drank, it made sense, Erik thought. He felt his mood turn dark again. Maybe that was why Charles had said, 'We need to talk.' 

He considered the possibility that Charles was a high-end male prostitute and discarded it. He had pursued Erik, and why would a prostitute do that? Clearly Erik didn't have a lot of money and Charles had never tried to get any of out him. So had he been cheating on his boyfriend with Erik?

Erik went inside, trying to wrap his mind around where Charles had gone and why. "It's none of my business," he told Logan. Logan yawned. 

_Maybe Charles works with the mafia,_ he thought. The idea seemed outlandish even to him. He mind kept turning the question over. What if Charles came home in a condition similar to the one that Erik had come home in the night before? What if he didn't come home? Erik wanted to put it out of his head but he couldn't. He wanted to see Charles so he could ask him...hell, if he was being honest with himself, he had been expecting to spend the evening with Charles. 

Around 9pm, Erik decided what he was going to do: he left his door ajar, after making sure that Logan was safely on the couch next to him. If Erik knew Charles, the man wouldn't be able to resist such an obvious invitation. Assuming he came home at all.

It wasn't much later that he heard someone coming into the apartment hallway from the building exterior, and a moment later his door was pushed open, almost violently. 

"Hi, honey, I'm home," Charles said, with a stupid grin on his face. He was quite obviously drunk, and reeked of alcohol even from where Erik was seated about eight feet away. His shirt was untucked and his tie was loose. He was barely able to stand, staggering further into the apartment right after he spoke in what looked like an attempt to regain his balance. 

"Careful," Erik said, standing and taking Charles' arm to help guide him to the couch. Logan got down, clearly displeased that his seat had been usurped. Erik quickly shut the front door firmly when he saw Logan headed that direction before he sat down next to Charles. 

"Fun night?" Erik asked, more casually than he felt. 

Charles head was tilted up, resting on the back of his couch, with his eyes closed. At Erik's question he opened his eyes a fraction and rolled his head towards Erik, the grin on his face twisted so it looked less pleasant. "As fun as dinner with my childhood abuser and his enabler can be, yeah." Charles was making eye contact with Erik by the end of his sentence. 

Erik, shocked, had no idea how to respond. He stared at Charles with his mouth slightly ajar for a moment until Charles closed his eyes and rolled his head back so that he was facing the ceiling. "Mmm sorry," Charles muttered. "Shouldn'a said that."

"Your—parents?" Erik guessed. 

Charles made a small noise that was neither confirmation nor negation. "Mother and stepfather," he said after a moment. "I'm supposed to have dinner with them on Sunday nights. I try and get out of it whenever possible, but..." He shrugged. 

"Why do it at all?" Erik asked bluntly. 

Charles rolled his head again to give Erik a look that seemed almost like he was pitying Erik. "Nevermind that. What can I do for you? You want to fuck?"

That was so far from what Erik had been thinking about that the idea seemed almost repulsive. "What? No! You're trashed. I'm surprised you're still conscious."

"Well, it might be hard to keep it up," Charles acknowledged, his head nodding vigorously and slowly. "But I could suck you off? Although it would be great if you'd settle for a handjob, because I—"

"No," Erik said, disturbed.

Charles gave him an exasperated look. "Then why am I here? The door being open _was_ an invitation, wasn't it?"

"Yes," Erik admitted. He swallowed. He couldn't say all that he wanted to...he was still reeling from what Charles had said about his family. He had seen Charles as someone whose only real problem was drinking, and it was hard to hear that Charles' troubles went deeper than that. “I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

“Oh, I’m definitely not okay,” Charles said easily, smiling. “But I’m doing better than you were last night, hmm?” Charles reached out to gently touch Erik’s neck. 

Erik didn’t smile back, but he looked back, observing the sheen of sweat of Charles’ face, his slightly flushed cheeks, and the long line of his throat. “If you say so.”

Charles clapped Erik on the knee, hard enough to surprise Erik. “I appreciate your concern, my friend, but I am in one piece, and I will wake up tomorrow, and I don’t need anyone to take care of me.”

_Unlike you,_ Erik felt Charles was saying. Erik immediately felt defensive. He pressed his lips together and looked away from Charles. 

After a few minutes, Erik began to feel irritated that Charles hadn’t stood up to leave. “So what are you waiting for? Go home.”

"Well then." Charles tried to stand, and just barely managed it. Grudgingly, Erik stood up and helped him walk to the door by holding his arm. 

Charles did pretty well until they were right at the doorway, when he stumbled and ended up at a slight angle, with his back pressed to the door.

He looked surprised by where he was, and looked up at Erik. His licked his already wet lips, that glistened enticingly. There was a strange desperation in his gaze. “Are you sure you don’t want to fool around?” he whispered.

Erik wavered. He didn’t want to fool around, not when Charles was this drunk, but he didn’t really want Charles to go, either. But he didn’t know how to ask him to stay for anything else. “Are you sure you can get home okay?”

Seeing the disappointment cross Charles face was almost physically painful for Erik. He winced. 

“Of course,” Charles said with forced joviality. “I only live down the hall.”

“Alright, then.” Erik helped Charles stand-up again and helped him out the door. “Maybe I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said, against his better judgement.

“Learn to live for the moment, Erik,” Charles said, as he staggered down the hall. Erik snorted despite himself.

Erik didn’t watch him all the way down the hall, but he did check a few minutes later to see that Charles wasn’t lying in the hallway. 

**

Mondays were never fun, but Erik had a particularly bad Monday. He wore a turtleneck to hide the worst of his bruising, but he had to field questions about his black eye all day. He couldn’t focus on what he was supposed to be doing at work because his mind kept turning over what he was going to do about Logan. The more he thought about it, the more convinced he was that Moira was going to make it so that he couldn’t keep Logan. Charles was a happy thought, but considering Moira didn’t want him to keep Charles, either…

“She can’t take everything,” Erik said out loud as he swung a trash can. His co-worker Darwin eyed him skeptically and Erik just shook his head and looked away. Probably Darwin thought he had an abusive girlfriend, Erik thought.

By the time he had arrived home on the bus, he was in an extremely bad mood. He knew Moira was coming over at their appointment time, 7:00pm, which gave him not quite two hours to relax and calm down so that he could show what a good influence Logan was on him. 

He opened the door and the smell hit him first, a smell he was very familiar with: garbage. His trash can was tipped over and strewn over half the living room. It was covered with little feathers, which meant that Logan had destroyed the last pillow Erik had left, too. But the _pièce de résistance_ was that there was a pile of dogshit in the middle of the couch. The cause of the mess trotted out of the bedroom, a pair of Erik’s underwear in his mouth.

_”Logan!”_ Erik roared, “What the fuck is this?”

Logan dropped the underwear and ran back into the bedroom. 

Erik followed him, angrier than he’d ever been at the Rottweiler. “Moira is coming over today! I cleaned all this yesterday! I’m trying to _keep_ you, goddammit!”

The haze of anger cleared and Erik saw Logan cowering in the corner, hunched down and trembling, his tail between his legs. 

The image of Charles backing away from him a few days before crossed his mind. Erik put his hand on his forehead and tried to get the anger out. His mind cast desperately for a way to do that and he remembered the breathing thing that Charles had done with him. He sat heavily on the side of his bed and took several long slow breaths in and out until he was able to keep the urge to destroy things down. 

The urge to destroy things. “Are you angry at me?” he asked Logan. Unsurprisingly, the dog did not respond, and just looked at him, staying the corner. 

“Are you mad that we haven’t fucked?” Erik asked, a sardonic note in his voice. “Are you jealous of Charles?”

Logan whined. He took one step toward Erik but then backed away again. 

Erik kept looking at Logan while the dog looked down. An unpleasant thought occurred to him. “You miss her,” he said. “Anne-Marie.”

Logan’s ears perked up. He barked. 

Erik put his head in his hands. “Logan…” The thought that even an animal that was supposed to be the most loyal, man’s best friend: even that creature wanted to leave Erik. “Come here,” Erik said softly, patting the bed next to him. It took a couple minutes of coaxing, but Logan jumped up on the bed next to him and Erik turned so he was facing the dog, lying on his side.

“Look,” he said seriously, “We gotta get through this appointment with Moira. Then, I promise I will take you to the park every Sunday—” except Anne-Marie went there on Sundays, he recalled. “—every Saturday. I’ll...figure out how to get the fancy dog food. And we won’t fuck unless _you_ want to. Okay?”

Logan was panting slightly, looking away from him. Erik didn’t know what that signified. 

There was a knock on his door and Erik jumped and looked at his clock. “She’s two hours early?” he said incredulously. That wasn’t a good sign at all…

“Hello?” Charles’ voice rang through the apartment. “Oh my god.” He had clearly seen the mess.

“In here,” Erik called, still lying on his side on the bed. He didn’t want to go back into the living room and face the mess, and it wasn’t like Charles had seen his bedroom before. “Logan didn’t have a good day,” he explained as Charles approached his bedroom door. 

Charles raised an eyebrow. “And how was Erik’s day?”

Erik shook his head, fingering one of Logan’s velvety soft ears. “Not great.”

“As usual, your words are most likely inadequate to the occasion,” Charles said lightly. He came and sat on the bed on the other side of Logan, in Erik’s line of sight. “I have a proposition for you.”

Erik looked at him curiously. 

“Have you ever taken ecstasy?” Charles asked. 

Erik shook his head, mutely. 

“MDMA, colloquially known as ecstasy, was used therapeutically until the United States government decided people were having too much fun,” Charles said. He almost sounded like a professor giving a lecture. He smiled at Erik. “I think it might do you some good."

Erik looked at Charles contemplatively. "I don't do drugs."

Charles inclined his head, still smiling. "I respect that," he said. He licked his lips and gave Erik a once-over. "Well, I wish you and Logan a good evening." He smiled politely and stood.

"Wait." The reason Erik didn't do drugs was not moral or physical; it was because he was subject to random drug tests per the terms of his parole. He also didn't want Charles to leave, even though he hated the part of himself that was craving Charles' company a little bit. "What's it like?"

Charles raised his eyebrows in pleased surprise. "Well, it's a guaranteed good time," he said slowly. "It makes people feel more...affectionate and communicative, more connected to others."

Erik thought about that. "What's the downside?" he asked. There was always a downside, and he wondered if Charles would downplay it. 

Charles say down on the bed again and absently stroked Logan. "The drug lasts about 8 hours, and coming down can be unpleasant for some people," he said. "Let’s see...there is also a risk of dehydration or rarely, overhydration." 

"How long is it detectable in blood or urine?" Erik asked. 

Charles gave Erik a puzzled look. "A couple days, I think." He paused before continuing. "Does that mean you are reconsidering?"

Erik knew Moira would be there in a little less than two hours. He had a huge mess in the living room that he needed to deal with if he wanted to convince her that he should be able to keep Logan, and that pushy weird-hair girl would be too happy to take Logan if Erik couldn't keep him. Everything felt overwhelming and unfair. 

And there was also the expectant look on Charles’ face and the fact that Erik had begun to associate him with safety and comfort. Erik licked his lips. “Can we do it at your place?”

“Of course,” Charles said, his face breaking into a smile. 

“Logan will have to come too,” Erik said.

The smile instantly left Charles’ face. “I don’t think it’s something dogs should do,” he said.

“No, god no,” Erik said quickly. “I wouldn’t. No. I just meant, I can’t leave him here.”

Charles’ eyes flicked to the living room. “He doesn’t seem to do well without you,” Charles agreed. 

Erik knew playing hooky from his appointment with Moira to do drugs was a bad idea, but he really wanted a vacation from his life. And Charles’ offer, and all that it promised, was too tantalizing to pass up. “Let’s go, then.”


	10. MDMA

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is going in a much different direction now from when it started. I know most of you probably are reading this because it's dog-fucking smut rather than in spite of it being dog-fucking smut, but I always intended for that to be a plot device, not the whole plot. 
> 
> Please note the new tag. Also I guess I should warn for bottom!Charles? Since I guess some of you don't like that. ;)

“We have to run an errand first,” Charles said as they were leaving Erik’s apartment. 

“Oh—uh, okay,” Erik said. “We can bring Logan?”

Charles nodded. “It’s probably a good idea, actually,” he said under his breath.

They walked to Charles’ car. “Where are we going?” Erik asked.

“To buy ecstasy,” Charles answered nonchalantly. 

Erik halted, which made Logan stop, too, since Erik had him on a leash. “We’re going to your drug dealer?”

“He’s very nice,” Charles reassured Erik briskly, opening the back car door and calling Logan. Logan leaped in the back seat happily, his leash pulling out of Erik’s fingers. 

“Oh...Ok,” Erik said slowly as he climbed into the front passenger seat of the car. 

Erik felt a little anxious about the ‘errand’. Drugs were one thing he hadn’t really ever contended with, aside from hitting a few joints at parties in high school that had done nothing for him. Charles didn’t know that Erik was on parole and Erik wondered if he should tell him. 

Of course, the odds of the police or his parole officer showing up were pretty rare...weren’t they? Unless…

“Have you been drinking?” he asked Charles abruptly. 

“Haven’t had a drink all day,” Charles said cheerfully. “It doesn’t go well with MDMA.” 

Erik nodded, trying to reassure himself. This would be fine. 

It was about a ten-minute drive before they pulled up in front of a small house with an overgrown yard. It wasn’t the best neighborhood, but it wasn’t the ghetto that Erik had feared. 

“Should we wait here?” he asked. 

“That will make them nervous,” Charles said, which didn’t make Erik feel much better. “Besides…” he leaned down to peer into the backseat. “I want you to bring Logan in.”

Erik was beginning to have a bad feeling about this. 

With Logan’s leash firmly in his hand, they walked to the front door. Charles rang the doorbell and stood there with proper posture, his hands behind his back, until the door was answered.

A cloud of marijuana smoke came out the door when it was opened by a long-haired ginger wearing a tie-dyed T-shirt. The muted sounds of reggae music were playing inside the house.

“Charles, my _man_!” the pothead exclaimed, attempting to do some kind of sloppy but complicated handshake that clearly baffled Charles as much as it did Erik. The stoner laughed it off, turning to Erik with a smile, his eyes barely open. “Hey man, I’m Sean.”

“Erik,” Erik said tightly. 

Sean seemed to sober up a little, looking Erik up and down. Erik was still wearing his turtleneck, but his black eye looked even worse by now, he was sure. “Cool, cool,” Sean muttered.

“He is,” Charles said to Sean with an air of reassurance. 

“You have a dog!” Sean suddenly exclaimed in delight. He bent down with a hand extended and Logan growled warningly. 

Sean straightened and took a step back, holding his hands up. “Whoa-ho-ho-ho.” Sean’s eyes followed Logan’s leash to Erik’s hand. “He doesn’t bite, does he?”

“No idea,” Erik deadpanned, looking Sean in the eye. 

Sean swallowed. “Okay, uh, well, come in, I guess.”

Charles turned his head to smile reassuringly at Erik as he led the way inside. 

Inside was what Erik expected—old, shabby furniture, and a threadbare carpet. The walls were covered with colorful posters of Bob Marley and mushrooms and what appeared appeared to be a Jamaican flag. 

“Is Janos here?” Charles inquired, once they were all inside and the door was shut. 

“Oh, you wanna roll,” Sean said with a knowing grin. He raised his voice. “Janos! It’s for you!”

There was an undecipherable yell from another room. 

“It’s CHAR-LES,” Sean yelled back, singing the name in a surprisingly clear soprano register and grinning at Charles while he did. 

Erik frowned and looked and Charles. Charles smiled back at him but looked slightly embarrassed. 

“Charles.” The voice was soft and baritone, belonging to a handsome latino man who had just emerged from down a hallway. He smiled at Charles, but his smile faded when he saw Erik and Logan. “Oh. I see you brought friends.”

“Yes, but we won’t be troubling you for long,” Charles said brightly. 

Janos just smiled at Charles knowingly. “Of course. Well, come on.” Charles walked toward the hallway Janos has come from, clearly knowing the way, and Erik started to follow him until Janos stopped him with a palm on his chest. 

“Sorry, friend,” he said, with the barest smile on his face, still in a soft voice. “I’m allergic to dogs.” His voice was insincere and he smelled strongly of cologne.

“Take your hand off me,” Erik said. Logan growled. 

Janos pulled his hand away from Erik, with a slightly amused expression on his face. There was a moment of tense silence before Sean said “Whoa, man, it’s cool,” while Charles placatingly said, “I’ll just be moment.”

Erik looked Charles in the eye and tried to tell him telepathically how much he wished he had was anywhere else at that moment. 

“You and doggie can toke with me,” Sean said. Erik turned to look at Sean and heard Charles and Janos leaving behind him. 

“I don’t ‘toke’,” Erik said coldly. There was a huge bong on a coffee table in the middle of the living room. 

Sean flopped down on the couch and reached for the bong. “Your loss,” He said with a shrug, pulling a baggy out of his pocket. He gestured with his chin towards Logan. “What about him?”

Erik stared at Sean, not sure whether to laugh or be angry. “Are you seriously asking me if my dog smokes weed?”

Sean gave him an exasperated look while he packed the bowl. “God, would you lighten up? Some people do that, you know. Blow smoke at their pets. Some pets like it.”

Erik was aghast. “How do you know if a pet _likes_ it? That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. Sounds like animal abuse to me.”

“Hey, man, getting high with your pets is _far_ from the worst thing someone could do,” Sean muttered. He sucked a long draw on the huge glass bong and his next words sounded thick and syrupy, emerging with smoke. “You’re really harshing my buzz. And Jesus, sit down.”

Erik did sit down, if only because it occurred to him right then what might be worse than getting high with one’s dog. Logan made a small unhappy noise and sat down at Erik’s feet.

For the next several minutes, Sean toked on his bong while Erik stared straight ahead and felt like the worst hypocrite that had ever existed. 

He lost track of time, staring at the floor and hating himself, but it was longer than a few minutes before Charles and Janos emerged. Charles was slightly flushed, his lips very wet and pink. Erik stood immediately. 

Janos followed Charles, a swagger in his step. His black hair, which had been perfect before, looked slightly mussed. He smirked at Erik. “Always a pleasure, Charles,” he said, his eyes on Erik. 

“Have a good evening,” Charles said politely to Janos and Sean, leading Erik and Logan out of the house with him. 

They weren’t even in the car yet when Erik had to say something. “What was that?” he asked, as Logan got into the backseat again. 

“I told you,” Charles said, as if Erik were slow. “I got—what we need for tonight.”

“Did you pay with sex?” Erik demanded. 

Charles gave Erik a shocked look, then snapped his mouth shut. “Can we talk about it in the car?” he said tightly. 

Erik got in the car, fuming. 

Charles followed suit. He didn’t speak until they had driven several blocks. “To answer your question, no, I did not pay for the ecstasy with sex.”

“Oh,” Erik said, mollified. “Sorry. It looked like—well. Never mind.” He snuck a look at Charles, because he wasn’t entirely sure that was the truth. Sure enough, Charles looked uncomfortable. 

“I don’t want you to think—” Charles sighed. “Look, not that it’s any of your business, but yes, I did just suck him off. But it wasn’t to pay for the drugs,” he added quickly. “I have the means to do that.”

Erik tried to think of something to say in response to that but his mouth wouldn’t work. “Why?” he finally managed to say. 

Charles, looking at the road, didn’t look back at Erik but he got a distinctly miserable look on his face. “I don’t know,” he finally said after a few minutes. He ran a hand through his hair. 

“Are you a sex addict?” Erik asked. 

“Are _you_ a sex addict?” Charles retorted. 

Erik frowned. “We’re not talking about me,” he said. 

“Well, maybe we should be. You got fucked and beat-up and showed up on my porch two nights ago,” Charles said. “I hardly think giving my dealer a blow-job compares.”

Erik felt slapped. He stared straight ahead for a few minutes, turning everything over in his mind, trying to figure out why he was bothered by Charles’ behavior. “Why did you have me come with you?” he finally asked. 

Charles looked disgusted and shook his head, not responding. 

Erik sighed. “I don’t know if us doing drugs together is such a good idea, Charles.”

“Nobody ever said it was a good idea,” Charles responded, darkly humorous. He pulled into his parking space and turned off the car and sighed, not moving to unbuckle himself. “I knew that I would be able to get out of there quicker if you and Logan were there,” he said after a moment, in a low voice. 

Erik frowned and thought about that. The silence expanded, broken only by Logan’s impatient shuffling in the backseat.

“I am truly sorry that I put you in such an uncomfortable position,” Charles said softly after a few minutes. “I was being—selfish, and inconsiderate. I should have explained the situation to you more fully.”

“Yeah,” Erik said, just as he saw a car pull up and he remembered what else was going on that evening. He ducked down. 

“Erik?” Charles asked curiously, without looking at him. “Some explanation?” 

“Can you describe to me who just got out of that car?” Erik asked from his hunched over position. 

Charles glanced out the window. “Mrs. Winthrop from upstairs.”

Erik relaxed and sat up. “We need to go to your apartment right away.”

**

Once inside, Charles gave Erik a curious smile. “So what was that about?”

Erik was pacing. Charles was sitting with Logan and stroking him, as he was clearly not completely relaxed. “There are—” he sighed. “I find it—” he made a frustrated noise that sounded almost like a growl, making Logan’s ears perk. “It’s hard for me to talk to you,” he finally said in frustration. “Not that it’s—it’s not _you_ —aw, fuck.”

“I think it’s time for you to take your medicine,” Charles said gently. He held out a pill. 

Erik looked at the pill on Charles’ palm and hesitated. “Communication? And affection?”

Charles nodded, his eyes open and honest and distractingly pretty. 

Erik picked up the pill and swallowed it dry, which was tough, because it was a fairly big pill with a chalky texture. 

“You should have some water,” Charles said, smoothly standing and walking to the kitchen.

“I’ll be fine,” Erik said. 

Charles came to him bearing a glass full of water. “Don’t make me play the _Master_ card,” he said lightly, with a smile. 

Erik rolled his eyes and took a large gulp of water. It did help the pill go down. 

Charles took his pill and then took the glass from Erik and finished the water in several gulps. “It takes about a half-hour to kick in,” he said. 

Erik opened his mouth to ask more about the drug when he heard what sounded like someone banging on a neighbor’s door. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and saw that he had a missed call from Moira. His heart started pounding and he stared at his phone, wondering what to do. 

Charles frowned and cocked his head. “It sounds like…” he started to walk towards his door but Erik caught his hand. 

“Oh,” Charles said softly. He blinked. “That’s right, you are avoiding someone.” He looked at Erik expectantly, one eyebrow raised. The pounding down the hall was heard again. Logan’s ears perked up. 

“Yes I am,” Erik said. The phone in his pocket started vibrating and he ignored it. 

“Am I harboring a fugitive?” Charles asked lightly. 

Erik snorted. “You’re the one with a drug habit.” The phone in Erik’s pocket stopped buzzing. 

Charles narrowed his eyes, playfully. “Excuse me, I have an _alcohol_ habit. I only rarely indulge in drugs. And only for good reasons.” He took a step closer to Erik, his demeanor commanding even though he was several inches shorter than Erik. 

“So what’s reason today?” Erik asked. His phone started vibrating again and he did his best to ignore it.”

Charles smiled. “I just want to see you happy for a while,” he said. 

Logan barked. 

The noise catalyzed Erik; it could certainly be heard outside of the apartment. Erik ran over to Logan and knelt next to him, soothing the dog and trying desperately to prevent him from barking again. His heart was pounding. If Moira had heard...here he was in Charles’ apartment, having just taken drugs, when he knew his _court-appointed_ therapist was coming over...what the fuck was he thinking? 

_This is a new level of self-harm,_ Erik thought and a manic giggle escaped his mouth. 

They all heard footsteps outside the door and Logan started to bark when Erik grabbed him by his muzzle and shook. Distracted, Logan backed away, but Erik felt panicked. 

“My bedroom,” Charles said, jerking his head at Erik. Erik grabbed Logan by the collar and walked him into Charles’s bedroom and shut the door. 

Logan didn’t really want to be in the bedroom, and his ears swivelled towards what he heard happening in the living room. Erik couldn’t tell what that was, and he wished he had told Charles not to answer the door if Moira knocked. Because he could tell Logan was going to bark again. Shit. 

_I need a way to distract him,_ Erik thought. For one panicked moment he considered sex. But even if he had not already promised Moira and himself and Logan that he wouldn’t do that, Charles didn’t have butter in his bedroom. However, Charles’ apartment was the same floorplan as Erik’s, which meant the bathroom was right off the bedroom.

“Bathtime, buddy,” Erik said. 

Logan cocked his head at Erik and Erik thought he might have recognized the word, which was funny, because he didn’t think he’d ever said it to Logan before. Nevertheless, the dog went easily with Erik to the bathroom. 

Erik shut the bathroom door and turned the water and the fan on full blast. If Logan couldn’t hear anyone, he wouldn’t bark. Erik wondered if he should leave Logan in the bathrooms and go check to see if Charles had invited Moira in for tea or something stupid like that, but he didn’t want to risk leaving Logan alone. He talked in a soothing, low voice to Logan. 

Logan whined and strained towards the tub. Surprised, Erik let go of Logan’s collar and the Rottweiler jumped in the tub. He stomped all his feet in movement that almost looked like a dance and then bit at the water. 

It was so cute that Erik wanted to take video. He laughed. 

Logan looked at him and barked happily. 

”Shit,” Erik hissed, and went over to kneel by the side of the tub to try and hold his muzzle shut again, not that that had worked the first time. Logan backed away and shook him off, which meant Erik got sprayed with water. He was trying to wipe off his face with his forearm when he heard the bathroom door open behind him. 

“Oh, you thought you’d start without me, did you?”

Thankfully, it was Charles’ voice, and he sounded amused. Erik turned to look and let out a shaky sigh of relief when he saw that Charles was alone. 

“She’s gone?” Erik asked. 

Charles gave Erik a knowing look. “Yes, she’s gone. We only spoke for a moment. Lovely woman, by the way. Ex-girlfriend?”

Erik snorted, rising to his feet. “Hardly. She’s my therapist.”

Charles blinked at him several times with a slightly puzzled look on his face before he chuckled. “You are a mystery wrapped in an enigma, my friend.”

“And you want to unwrap me,” Erik said. 

Charles’ smile faded and he looked very at Erik with unbearable sincerity. “I do,” he said softly.

For a moment Erik was compelled just to look at Charles and see him for what he was, not for what he was to Erik. Not as a threat to Erik’s seclusion, or as a shelter, or as someone to have sex with, but for the man he was when Erik wasn’t around. He wondered what that man did when Erik wasn’t around; he wondered why that man drank so heavily and why he still saw his parents after they had clearly been horrible to him. He was on the verge of formulating a question when Logan barked again.

Charles smiled at the Rottweiler and slid by Erik to turn off the water. He grabbed a towel off the rack and helped Logan out of the bath while Erik moved out of the way. Logan shook his whole body and Charles laughed, kneeling and holding the towel up like a shield in front of him. When Logan stopped, Charles started towelling the dog down, speaking to him in a baby talk that Erik found didn’t bother him as much as it used to. 

Something about the scene tugged on Erik’s heart. Charles was...Charles was wonderful. How had Erik not seen that before?

After towelling Logan for several minutes, Charles grinned up at Erik. “How are you doing?” he asked. Logan trotted out of the bathroom. 

“I’m...good,” Erik answered. “Really good.” He smiled. He couldn’t help it. 

“Oh, I’m very glad to hear that,” Charles said, standing, still smiling. He sounded so completely sincere that Erik wanted to kiss him. 

“It’s a little early for you to be feeling it yet,” Charles continued. “Do you want to take a shower before it comes on?”

Erik was staring at Charles’ lips and his words registered slowly. A little early...oh, that’s right, he had taken a drug. His good mood dipped at the thought that this feeling was artificial, but he almost immediately realized he didn’t care. 

“Erik?” Charles prompted, stepping closer to him, with a smile. 

Erik put his hand on Charles’ cheek. It was smooth, so smooth, until right there where his stubble started, but that was okay. Stubble was good. His lips were _so_ red. Erik couldn’t stop looking at them. “Sorry, did you ask me something?”

“I asked if you wanted to take a shower,” Charles said, smiling, looking so damn gorgeous the angels themselves should be jealous. 

“Angels are jealous,” Erik murmured. He gave in and leaned forward to kiss Charles on his full, beautiful, mouth. 

Charles kissed him back, so sweetly, and Erik felt like he was floating. Charles broke the kiss with a slight laugh. “Okay, you are definitely feeling it,” he said. “I think you will want a shower, but right now it might be a little overwhelming for you.”

Erik stroked a hand down Charles’ back. He just felt so damned _good_. “Shower with me,” he suggested in a low voice. 

“I suppose I can do that,” Charles said with a smile. 

Erik hastened to take his (damp from Logan) clothes off and Charles undressed too. He could hardly take his eyes off Charles as he undressed until he had to when he nearly fell over trying to step out of his pants. 

“Take it easy,” Charles said soothingly, a hint of amusement in his voice. 

“I don’t want to stop looking at you,” Erik admitted, shamelessly watching as Charles finished taking off his clothes. He was slim, but well-muscled, with a smattering of freckles across his shoulders. His ass was amazing and Erik wanted to squeeze it. 

“You’re not so hard on the eyes yourself,” Charles said cheekily, sweeping his eyes down Erik’s naked body. The compliment rolled off Erik because he viewed his own body more as a tool, although he knew in an abstract way that he was attractive to some people. 

“How old are you?” Erik asked. He’d been wondering for a while, because Charles seemed so worldly but he looked _so_ young. 

Charles gave Erik a calculating look and turned the water in the shower back on before replying. “That reminds me. I was thinking...um.” He bit his lip and looked at Erik imploringly, which only made him look younger. “I’d like us to be honest with each other tonight. Completely honest.”

That gave Erik pause. Normally he would have recoiled from such a suggestion, but he tried to consider it rationally. “You want to know my secrets,” he said. 

“I want to know _you,_ ” Charles replied earnestly, and how were eyes ever that blue? “And I want you to know me,” he added in a softer voice. 

Erik’s self-protective, knee-jerk emotional response was absent. True, he didn’t know what he and Charles would be in the future (or even what they were now, if he was being honest with himself) but Charles was a good man and Erik found it impossible to believe that Charles would use any knowledge he gained to hurt Erik. “Alright,” he said. 

Charles smiled wide and leaned forward to kiss Erik on the cheek. “I’m really looking forward to this,” he said. 

Erik’s hand instinctively went to Charles’ back and the smooth, firm flesh there. He wanted to slide his hand down but wasn’t sure such a grope would be welcomed, and in fact Charles pulled away to step into the shower. He held his hand out to Erik, and Erik accepted it, stepping in after him. 

The water was warm, and it felt like heaven on Erik’s back. It suddenly occurred to him that he had worked all day hauling garbage and he probably smelled terrible. “Did you want me to shower because I smelled bad?” he blurted. 

Charles’ eyes widened and he blinked a couple times. “Um,” he said.

“Honesty?” Erik reminded Charles, with a raised eyebrow. 

“A little,” Charles admitted. “Not as bad as Saturday night.” Realizing what he had just said, Charles sucked in a breath and bit his lip. 

Erik contemplated Charles. He wasn’t bothered by the reference; he knew he had smelled bad, and he remembered why. “Thank you for taking care of me,” he said simply. “Do you have soap?”

With a relieved smile, Charles handed him the soap. 

Erik soaped himself up while Charles watched. Erik felt an unfamiliar pride in how he looked. He knew he was in decent shape, but to be _admired_ so openly was...nice. Especially by Charles. Beautiful Charles, who stood shivering in front of him. 

“You’re cold,” Erik said, realizing. “We should switch.”

Charles looked surprised. “Oh, I guess I am. I hadn’t noticed.” 

Charles slid by Erik’s soapy front and his ass dragged across Erik’s half-erect cock. “Jesus Christ,” Erik gasped. 

Charles gave him a mischievous look once he was under the showerhead. “You did that on purpose,” Erik accused him, playfully. 

“Since we are being honest: yes, I did.” Charles turned so his body was facing the shower head and looked over his shoulder at Erik. “How are you doing?” he asked Erik.

“Trying not to stare at your ass,” Erik answered. Honesty wasn’t that difficult. He just had to dispose of some mental filters he had in place. 

Charles’ deep laugh reverberated in the shower. “I will take that as a compliment.”

“Can I…” Erik swallowed as words left him. He wanted to press his body against Charles’ back, he wanted to stroke Charles’ thighs and squeeze that incredible ass, and kiss that freckled shoulder. “...touch you?” he finally finished. 

“You can touch me anywhere you want to,” Charles replied. He didn’t act like the question was odd at all. 

Erik stepped closer to Charles and pressed himself against the shorter man, getting the additional benefit of feeling the warm water trickling down Charles back. His half-erect cock (it was surprising to Erik that he didn’t have a full erection, but he didn’t feel inclined to worry about it) nestled into the the cleft between Charles’ ass cheeks, slippery with soap. Charles gasped at the sensation but did not pull away. Erik still had soap in his hand, so he decided to soap up Charles’ chest and abdomen. Hearing Charles soft moan, he dared to extend his cleaning efforts lower, stroking Charles cock a bit (he was more erect than Erik, but not much) before moving his hands down to gently soap Charles’ balls, too. 

Erik put the soap down on a nearby shower shelf and nuzzled Charles’ shoulder. He was surprised at how he felt—comfortably sensual. He didn’t have a strong urge to fuck Charles or be fucked by him; he just wanted to be close to him. 

“This is amazing,” Erik said, after he’d been leaning his head on Charles’ shoulder for what felt like several minutes. “ _You_ are amazing.” 

“Thank you,” Charles murmured into the shower. “Not that this isn’t incredible, but would you like to move this to a warm and dry location, like perhaps my bed?”

“Yes!” Erik exclaimed, feeling like that was the best idea he’d ever heard. They both rinsed off and then Charles produced a couple more towels from somewhere. Erik moved into Charles’ bedroom to dry off, feeling fantastic. He couldn’t remember ever feeling this good before. 

“Twenty-two,” Charles said behind Erik, his voice slightly muffled. 

Erik turned around to see Charles toweling off his head, his lean body naked and on display. Erik looked his fill. “What?” he said intelligently. 

“My age,” Charles clarified with a smile, his head emerging from the towel. “You asked earlier.”

That was both older than Charles looked, but younger than Erik had been expecting. “I’m twenty-one,” he said. 

Charles looked surprised. “Really? I thought you were older!”

Erik shrugged. “Hard life,” he said without rancor. It was his usual response when someone was surprised at his age.

Charles flopped on his bed and beckoned Erik. Erik climbed on the bed and sat cross-legged next to Charles. “It’s not like being drunk at all,” he said in wonder. “I can think clearly, for the most part.”

Charles smiled at him. He was lying down on his back, completely unselfconsciously. His feet were crossed at the ankle and his hands were behind his head. “Why was your therapist here?” he asked curiously. 

That was a slight damper on Erik’s mood. “She was here to assess how I interact with Logan,” he said, not seeing any reason not share. “I told her we fucked.”

Charles sucked his breath in. “Oh, wow. So you are hiding because she wants to take him from you?”

“Basically.” Erik twisted, looking for the subject of the conversation. “Can Logan come up here on your bed with us?” The bed was huge, afterall.

“Ah, that’s fine,” Charles said, hesitation in his voice. “Erik—I don’t judge you for, well. Whatever you do sexually. But I don’t want to have a sexual relationship with Logan.”

“That’s not what I—” Erik started to say, but Charles interrupted him. 

“—I know. I just wanted to tell you that.” Charles looked at Erik placidly. 

“Logan!” Erik called. Logan trotted in from the living room and jumped up on the bed without much urging. He settled down next to Erik and Erik started petting him absently. 

“Logan and I haven’t—” Erik said after a moment. “I decided not to. I mean, of course Moira asked me not to, but more than that…” he drifted off for a moment, trying to find the words. “I felt like it wasn’t fair that he couldn’t say yes or no.” He petted Logan for a minute more, thinking. “And since we’ve stopped he hasn’t tried to—initiate anything.”

“He did before?” Charles asked, surprised. 

“The first time, yeah.” Erik was silent a moment, rubbing Logan’s soft ears. He thought about how he’d felt earlier that day when Sean had suggested getting Logan high. “Do you think I was abusing him?”

Charles blinked. “I’m not in a position to assess that; I’m not a professional. But—he doesn’t seem hurt?”

Erik looked at Charles a moment, then back at Logan. “Some hurts you can’t see.”

“That’s true,” Charles said, in a voice so soft it was almost a whisper. He looked sad for a moment, and then cleared his throat. “I’m surprised you told your therapist. That’s not the kind of thing I would share with my therapist.”

Erik put the hand not on Logan flat on Charles’ abdomen. Charles made a happy sound. “You have a therapist?” he asked. 

“Oh yes, have had for years,” Charles said cheerfully. “Emma has helped me a lot. I started seeing her when I was, hmm, fifteen I think?”

“If you’ve been seeing her so long, why aren’t you—fixed?” Erik said. He looked at Logan apologetically for using that word, but Logan didn’t seem to notice. 

“You think I’m broken?” Charles asked idly, still smiling.

Erik thought about Charles’ drinking and behavior with his drug dealer. “You’re a little bit broken,” he said. 

Charles chuckled, not seeming offended at all. “Emma has helped me understand what motivates me to do what I do. But it doesn’t make that motivation go away.” Charles seemed to grow pensive for a moment, and Erik stroked his stomach gently. Charles blinked and his smile returned. “Besides, how else is she supposed to have job security?”

Erik frowned at Charles. “Is that a joke?”

Charles’ smile faded. “I don’t know.”

Erik moved to straddle Charles, sitting on the other man’s thighs. Charles watched him move, curiously. Erik looked down at Charles below him and wondered if Charles thought that Erik was initiating sex. “I don’t know why I did that,” he said. 

Then he thought maybe he did know: because it brought Charles’ smile back. “I’m not objecting,” Charles said. “No matter your intention.” His pupils were much larger than usual, Erik noticed. 

Erik smoothed his hands along Charles’ chest and abdomen. He felt so good. Erik wanted to feel all of him, _know_ all of him. “And what did you discover motivates you?”

Charles licked his lips. “I am attracted to people who are unavailable,” he said. “I drink when I’m lonely. I’m hypersexualized, because of some things that happened to me in my childhood, and now that is how I seek validation. But knowing that…” Charles shrugged. “Doesn’t change much of it.”

“I’m unavailable?” Erik asked.

Charles looked him in the eye. “I’m still not clear on that.”

Erik, broke eye contact, choosing instead to trace the letters of his name into Charles’ chest with his fingers. “Moira doesn’t want me to see you.” He paused, still drawing the letters, until he realized how contradictory that was to what he was saying and stopped. “And I’m not relationship material. So yeah, I’m unavailable.”

Charles stretched his arms above his head, seemingly unconcerned. “Well, I’d have to say the same things are true about myself: my therapist thinks I should be single and abstinent and sober and never see my parents again. The difference is, I do what I want.”

“Except for that last one,” Erik said. Charles made a face at Erik and Erik smiled. He paused a moment and considered what Charles was telling him and continued in a softer voice. “So why do you see them?”

Charles wrinkled his nose and squinted up at Erik. It was unfairly adorable. “Three guesses.”

Erik thought about it. “Money?”

“Money,” Charles agreed, sighing. “I’m not self-sufficient yet.”

Erik wanted Charles’ hands on him, so he simply bent forward and pulled Charles’ hands out from under his pillow and put them on his hips. Charles laughed and started gently stroking up and down Erik’s thighs. It felt wonderful. 

Erik mind was still on the conversation though, too. “What do you write, anyway?” 

Charles grimaced slightly, though his hands never stopped moving on Erik. “Not much. I mean I’m supposed to, I dropped out of college to write, theoretically, but it’s really hard to sell things and the more trouble I have with that the less I want to write and the more I want to just...drink and fuck.”

“So...am I enabling you when we have sex?” Erik asked, a note of teasing in his voice. 

“Well, probably, but since I’m a gentleman I return the favor,” Charles said, smirking. 

Erik laughed loudly, and realized that jaw felt tense. His body wanted to move, but he also wanted to touch Charles. He moved off Charles so he could lie next to him, propped up on his elbow. That gave him one free hand with which to keep touching Charles. Suddenly he hesitated. “Am I touching you too much?”

“No, I love it,” Charles said honestly, turning his head to Erik. He looked at Erik’s lips and Erik took the hint, leaning in to kiss him. 

God, Charles was a good kisser. Erik got lost in the kiss for a moment and then realized his free hand was fondling Charles’ mostly flaccid penis. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, moving his hand away. 

“It’s fine, it’s all good,” Charles said reassuringly. “I tend not to get erections on E, but it doesn’t mean I’m not enjoying it.”

Erik pulled back and gave Charles a suspiciously teasing look. “So you didn’t do this to get me in bed?”

“Well, you are _in_ my bed,” Charles pointed out, rolling up on his side. “And it doesn’t seem that you have the same problem I have.” He reached down to stroke Erik’s mostly-erect cock. 

“Have I ever told you what a beautiful cock you have?” Charles murmured, stroking the organ he was discussing. It felt heavenly to Erik and he rolled onto his back, his eyes fluttering. 

“Thank you,” Erik gasped. Charles nuzzled his neck while he kept gently stroking Erik’s erect cock. 

“This is not what you usually like,” Charles observed after a moment. 

“Not at all,” Erik said, his voice breathy. “But I’m liking it right now.”

“I can be meaner if you want,” Charles murmured. 

Erik shook his head. “Maybe next time,” he allowed, “But right now, ah, that feels perfect.”

“But normally, that’s what you like, isn’t it?” Charles asked. “Rough sex. Humiliation. And I wasn’t even rough enough for you.” He was still stroking Erik’s cock as he spoke, his voice even and mildly curious. 

Erik thought about the question, and it was strange to do so without shame crowding his thoughts. “Yes. I mean no. I’m not really sure. I don’t have sex with you in order to punish myself.”

Charles hand faltered for a moment. “Well, that’s, um, good,” he said. 

Erik stopped Charles’ hand on his cock and brought it to his mouth to kiss it. “I don’t know why I like what I do,” he said. “The strange thing is, I have been raped, so you would think rough sex would repel me.” Erik was calm. He could have been discussing the weather. It was incredibly freeing. 

Charles looked at Erik, his eyes blue and accepting, understanding; sympathetic, but not pitying. “I’m so sorry that happened to you.” 

Erik blinked and realized that even though the shame that usually accompanied him talking and thinking about his rape was distant, he really didn’t want to say much more about it—and he didn’t think he needed to. So he turned to face Charles again. “But my thing isn’t your thing, is it?”

“Your thing?” Charles asked. 

“My—kink. What gets me off.”

Charles shrugged, which looked slightly awkward since he was lying on his side facing Erik. “Just because it’s not my ‘thing’ doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy it. I enjoy making my sex partner feel good.”

“But what is your thing?” Erik asked. “What do you fantasize about?”

Charles raised his eyebrows. “Nobody’s ever asked me that before.”

Erik frowned in disbelief. “Really?”

Charles smiled and his eyes slid down Erik’s body for a moment. “Anyway, I just told you. What I get off on is watching my partner get off.”

“Mmm,” Erik said. “I thought we agreed to be honest.”

Charles’s eyes snapped back up to Erik’s, indignant. “I was being honest!”

“That’s not what your eyes said.”

Charles was silent for a while. “It’s stupid. Embarrassing.”

Erik laughed. “You’re talking to the guy who fucked his dog.” He started carding his fingers through Charles’ hair. It was still a little damp from their shower, but it was incredibly soft and silky. Why had he never touched Charles’ hair before?

Charles closed his eyes. “That feels good,” he murmured. 

“What is your fantasy?” Erik whispered, nuzzling Charles’ ear. 

Charles was quiet. Erik had decided to drop the subject, not wanting to make Charles uncomfortable, when Charles whispered, “I want to make love.”

Erik’s hand paused for a moment, but resumed soon.

“I’ve never done that,” Charles continued. “Never had sex with someone who I was in love with, or who was in love with me. And that’s supposed to be the point of sex, right? A celebration of love.”

“Well, procreation,” Erik said. 

Charles smiled, his eyes still closed. “I’d like to do that someday as well. But both are pretty far from my grasp right now.”

Normally, sex with feelings was exactly the kind that Erik didn’t want. But here and now, in this bubble of not-quite-reality that they were sharing, everything seemed upside down. Charles seemed casually unaware of how _good_ he was and Erik wanted to make him understand, but he felt that anything he said would be brushed to the side. But he could do something nice for Charles. “I can make love to you.”

Charles’s eyes opened and he looked at Erik with a touch of alarm. “I didn’t say that to manipulate you.”

“I know,” Erik said. He kissed Charles on the cheek, gentle and slow. “I want to.” Then something occurred to him. “I can’t bottom right now, though.”

Charles’ eyebrows lifted in question and Erik gave him a rueful smile. “Those guys...kinda did a number on me back there. I should probably wait a few weeks, to be honest.”

Charles’s eyes widened and then filled with tears. 

“Oh, no, no, no,” Erik said, with an edge of desperation, kissing Charles’ cheek and then his lips. “Don’t. It’s okay. I’m fine.”

Charles scrubbed at his eyes. “Okay. I believe you. Sorry.”

Erik moved Charles’ hand to his cock. “You said you like to bottom,” he reminded Charles, moving Charles’ hand on his cock until Charles was moving it of his own accord. 

“Yes, but…” 

Erik stroked his hand down Charles side until he got to his ass, which he squeezed appreciatively. “Yes, butt.”

Charles smiled, and Erik kissed him again. “It’s been a long time since I penetrated anyone,” he said. “Not since my wife.”

Charles stopped stroking Erik’s cock. “You’re divorced?”

“Ahh, technically, no. You have to know where someone is to send them divorce papers.”

Charles took his hand completely off Erik’s penis. “So you’re married.”

“She left me,” Erik said. “After…” he licked his lips. Honesty. “After our daughter died.”

“Jesus Christ,” Charles whispered. His eyes started to fill up again and Erik’s did too. He let all his memories of Anya come to him, the ones he usually pushed aside because they were too painful. He remembered the first time he held her, how he felt thrilled and terrified at the same time; the feel of her sleeping against his chest; the scent of her hair mixed with lanolin and baby powder. Charles grew blurry in his sight as Erik’s tears fell freely. 

He wasn’t sobbing, but tears were steadily leaking from his eyes. He felt sad, but not the guilty, ugly sad he felt when he usually thought of Anya and what had happened next; this felt pure and unencumbered. It was okay to feel sad; it was normal. That’s how someone is supposed to feel when their daughter dies.

Charles stroked his face and wiped his tears away and didn’t say anything. “It was SIDS,” Erik said after a few minutes. “Which is really not an answer, because you know what it stands for? Sudden Infant Death Syndrome. There was no way to know if something I did caused it, or something Magda did, or if it would have happened no matter what.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Charles said.

Erik managed a weak smile. “You know, I tell myself that all the time, but there’s no way of knowing, is there?”

“Well, I promised you I’d be honest with you,” Charles said, “So you have to believe me when I say it wasn’t your fault.”

Erik smiled and wiped away the rest of his tears. “You are—you are really—you are just fantastic, did you know that?”

“I’m glad you think so,” Charles said, smiling softly. 

“I know so,” Erik said, surging forward to kiss Charles deeply. He smelled and tasted and felt so good. No matter what Charles felt about himself, Erik knew he was good, and that he deserved better than Erik. But Erik wasn’t quite good enough to stay away, knowing that. “I want to make love to you,” he whispered. 

“You’re sad and making yourself feel better with sex,” Charles said, his hands moving on Erik’s body. 

Erik rolled them so he was on top of Charles, and kissed him again. “You’re right,” he said. “Knowing why I’m doing something doesn’t make me want to stop doing it.”

Charles chuckled and then inhaled in surprise when he felt Erik’s cock against his abdomen. “Well, you certainly don’t have the same issues with this drug that I do,” he said. 

Erik angled hips slowly against Charles because damn, the drag of his cock against Charles’ tight stomach felt good. But as Charles had implied, his own cock wasn’t fully erect. “Do you want me to stop?”

Charles hesitated and Erik lifted up off him enough to look at him questioningly. Charles bit his lip and frowned a little as he spoke haltingly. “I don’t want you—to just—I want it to be something you want to,” Charles explained awkwardly.

Erik smiled and gestured at his cock. “Look at me, I want to.”

“But you don’t really love me,” Charles said, looking up into Erik’s eyes. “So it still wouldn’t be making love, would it?”

Erik moved back to Charles’ side, between him and Logan, to think about that. He turned the idea over in his mind. Love. Did he love Charles? Had he loved Magda? Had he ever loved anyone? Anya, yes. And Logan…

“We’re still being honest?” he asked Charles. 

Charles looked at his clock. “We’re only halfway through,” he said, with a somewhat sad smile. “So, yes, I think so.”

“Honestly…” He turned on his side to face Charles. “I feel like I love you right now. I assume it’s temporary and I don’t want to make any long-term commitments because I don’t think that’s fair to you, but…” he touched Charles’ face. “You are gorgeous, and sexy, and kind, and you don’t judge me and you even put up with me being an asshole. So it’s not worth much, but for what it is worth, yes I do love you and I want to give you your fantasy.” 

Charles’s eyebrows had risen at the same rate his mouth fell open during Erik’s speech. “Erik,” he said, in a voice pregnant with feeling. Erik took that as an invitation and kissed him again and felt warm and pleased when Charles returned the kiss fervently. 

He rolled on top of Charles again and started kissing his way down Charles’ body. Charles was gasping and gratifyingly noisy, clutching Erik’s shoulders as Erik moved past Charles’ half-erect penis and settled between his legs. “Hold these,” he told Charles, pushing his legs up and back until Charles grabbed them. 

“Oh my god,” Charles whimpered. “Nobody ever…”

Erik felt smugly pleased that he was giving some kind of first to Charles as he did something that knew he was good at: rimming. It was something frequently required of him; in fact, those two men—

Erik put everything else out of his mind and just focused on making Charles feel good. He got lost in it, himself; letting the noises Charles made guide him as to when he should be more teasing or more direct until he found himself tongue-fucking Charles’ ass some unknown amount of time later and Charles was nearly crying. Then he heard Charles’ tone change completely. Erik stopped and wiped his mouth, feeling reality settle back around him. “Everything okay?”

“Um. Logan seems to think he should be involved…”

Erik looked up and saw Logan trying to get closer to Charles and Charles holding him off with a hand. Erik chuckled despite himself. “Logan, down.”

Logan gave him a wounded look. 

“Charles and I are having—making love. This doesn’t involve you. Down,” Erik said, wondering how much Logan really understood. Logan looked at him for a moment more and then huffed and jumped down off the bed and wandered into the living room. 

Erik got up to shut the bedroom door behind Logan (the last thing he needed was a dog trying to mount him by surprise) and when he turned back to the bed, there was a small tube of lube and a condom on the bed next to Charles’ hip. 

“Is this a hint?” he said teasingly, picking up the lube and squeezing some on his fingers. He settled between Charles legs again and stroked down his cleft with his two slick fingers. 

Charles gasped but managed to respond through his hitching breaths. “I’ve wanted you to top me ever since I saw your cock,” he admitted. 

Erik pushed both fingers inside at once, slowly, watching Charles’ face to see if it was too much but it seemed to be very enjoyable if the expression on Charles’ face was accurate. He continued fingering Charles while he kissed Charles’ thigh and hipbone and even nuzzled his balls. 

It was novel for Erik to be taking the initiative, and novel to not be expecting pain at any moment. He put a third finger in Charles and slowed down, sensitive to any sounds Charles might make that were not happy ones, but the other man appeared lost in bliss. 

“Can you reach that condom?” Erik whispered, and wasn’t surprised that Charles had it in his hand. 

“But I want to suck you first,” Charles said, lifting his head up to make eye contact with Erik. “Please.”

Erik considered his cock, which was still rock hard and leaking all over Charles’ bedsheet. “I may not last long.”

“I’ll be quick,” Charles promised. 

Erik moved out from between Charles’ legs and lay flat on his back next to him while Charles rolled over and started kissing Erik’s cock all over. Erik clutched a fistful of bedsheet of either side of his hips because just the kissing alone was maddening. He whimpered as Charles graduated to licking, and right after Charles took the head of Erik’s cock into his mouth, Erik said desperately, “Please, stop, I won’t last!”

Charles pulled off with a smug chuckle and unrolled the condom onto Erik’s dick. It was just as well Charles did it, Erik thought, because his own hands were trembling. In fact, he was shaking enough that he didn’t know how he would be able to get on top of Charles, when he realized that Charles was climbing on top of him. 

Charles leaned forward to kiss him and then reached back to position Erik’s cock and slowly started pushing back on it. Erik was sure that if it wasn’t for the condom he would have come instantly. Even with the prophylactic Charles felt so tight and hot that Erik was gasping. Charles was alternately whimpering and grunting as he sank down further until his ass cheeks were resting on Erik’s pelvis. 

“Tell me you love me,” Charles commanded. Erik looked at him in surprise and his jaw was set and his eyes were blazing. He was suddenly so commanding, it was like someone had flipped a switch in him. 

“I love you,” Erik gasped. Charles raised up and then slammed back down. “I love you,” Erik said again, louder. Charles raised up and started fucking just the top of Erik’s dick, where it was the most sensitive. Erik wanted to cry from how good it felt.

“Please,” he gasped, not even knowing what he was asking for. 

“Please what, love,” Charles whispered, short of breath. 

Erik realized what he wanted and grabbed Charles’ hips and flipped them over, so he was on top. “I need…”

He started rocking in and out of Charles slowly, with a gradually increasing tempo, looking Charles in the eye. He kissed him, gently, “You feel so good, Charles, I love you, I love—aah…” the ability to articulate speech left Erik as he climaxed. It felt like fireworks and Christmas and orgasm all rolled together into one. He gripped Charles’ shoulders and buried his face in the other man’s chest as the feeling swept through him. 

He became aware that Charles was stroking his hair around the same time that he noticed that Charles had an erection. “What’s this?” he murmured, smiling. “I thought this wasn’t going to happen.” He wrapped his hand around Charles’ cock and started stroking it.

“It usually doesn’t,” Charles said, his breathing labored. “You must have done something to me. Oh yes, Jesus Christ, yes,” Charles gasped as he came, his ass clenching around Erik’s slowly softening cock while ropy strands of ejaculate coated Erik’s hand and his chest. 

Erik saucily licked off his fingers while Charles’ head rolled back, dazed. “Doesn’t that defeat the point of the condom?” Charles mumbled, watching Erik through barely-open eyes. 

Erik paused. “Are you clean?”

“I have no knowledge to the contrary, but that doesn’t mean much,” Charles said with a sigh. “I don’t make a habit of using condoms for oral sex, though.”

“Neither do I,” Erik admitted, deciding to walk to the bathroom and rinse his hand off instead. “Hey, what time is it?”

Charles craned his neck to look at his clock. “Uh. Half past midnight.” 

Erik bit his lip. “I need to walk and feed Logan.” He hesitated. “Do you, uh, want to come with me?”

Charles looked extremely comfortable on his huge bed, so it was a surprise to Erik when he said, “Sure,” and rolled out of bed. 

They both got dressed and went out to the living room, where Erik was surprised to discover that Logan had not destroyed anything. The three of them went back to Erik’s apartment and it was like real life suddenly swallowed up Erik as he saw the condition his apartment was in, and what had happened with Moira earlier that evening, and what the fuck was he going to do about any of it…

And of course, there was still a pile of dogshit on his couch. 

Erik closed his eyes in mortification, and then thought, what am I hiding from Charles? He efficiently cleaned up the poop and then put Logan’s leash on him. Charles just hung back mutely. 

Once they were outside and walking with Logan, Erik spoke. “I am so fucked.”

“Why’s that?” Charles asked. 

“Because I blew off my appointment with Moira tonight so I could do drugs with you,” Erik admitted, running a hand through his hair. 

Comprehension dawned over Charles’ face. _“That’s_ why she was here. Wait, she comes looking for you in person when you don’t show up for an appointment? That’s intense!”

Erik shook his head, chuckling lightly. “No. Tonight’s appointment was supposed to be at my apartment. She wanted to assess how I am with Logan, remember?” He paused as Logan found an apparently acceptable spot in the grass to do his business. “I spent a few hours cleaning yesterday in preparation, in fact. But when I came from work tonight and saw what Logan had done…” He sighed. “Your offer coincided nicely with my subconscious urge to sabotage my life completely.”

“But look at how self-aware you are about it,” Charles said, smiling. 

Charles was teasing, but it was also true. “Yes,” Erik admitted. “You know...thank you for this. I don’t know what will happen next, but...I hope you get what you deserve in life. Someone who makes love to you, and treats you right...kids. The right kind of family.”

Charles’ facial expression changed from smiling to confused to frowning while Erik was speaking. He tried to smile again, although his entire face did not appear to be cooperating. “You’re talking like you’re not still going to be my next-door neighbor tomorrow,” he said. 

Erik shrugged. For all he knew, Moira had reported him to his parole officer and the cops would be here any minute. “I probably will be,” he said. 

Charles stood there staring at him and pressing his lips together, breathing heavier and heavier. “Why can’t you—” he stopped and put his head in his hand. “You’re still dead-set against any kind of relationship with me? Even after that?” Charles’ voice cracked. 

Erik looked at him in alarm and felt immediately self-defensive. “What? I told you I was unavailable!”

“You told me you loved me,” Charles said, his jaw clenched. 

“I d—” Erik coughed and didn’t complete the word. _I did. I do._ Both phrases were not fair to Charles; he clearly liked Erik, but Erik knew Charles could do better. 

“Charles,” Erik said after a moment of trying to think how he could explain in a way that would not make Charles feel bad, “You are in a rough spot in your life, I get that, but you are going to do better. You are too good a person to hitch your wagon to me. I’m just going to hold you back.”

“Oh, the whole, ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ speech? Could you at least be original?” Charles was glaring at him with his arms crossed. 

“Hey,” Erik said softly, his voice ramping up in volume as he spoke. “Do you see that? Do you see what just came out of Logan’s ass? That’s me. I’m a piece of shit, Charles. _I’m a A PIECE OF FUCKING SHIT, AND YOU CAN DO BETTER!”_ By the end of the sentence, Erik was screaming. Tears sprang to his eyes and he rubbed his face and then screamed wordlessly in anger and frustration. 

“Shut up,” someone yelled, in the distance.

Erik was on his knees in the grass, sobbing. Charles was next to him, stroking his back, also crying. “I’m sorry,” Erik said through a hiccup, when he could speak again. 

“Let’s go back and talk about it inside,” Charles said softly. 

**

Back at his apartment, Erik felt numb. He fed Logan and then belatedly picked up the strewn trash up that Logan had scattered before he sat on the couch heavily. Charles sat next to him gingerly; Erik had removed the blanket covering the couch since Logan had pooped on it, but the couch cushions they were sitting on had been mostly destroyed by the dog as well. 

“Why are you so convinced that you are a terrible person?” Charles asked him. 

Erik shook his head and looked down. “I don’t do good things. I fuck up all the time.”

“You did a good thing for me,” Charles said. 

“You mean having sex the way you wanted to?” Erik said, an edge of sarcasm to his voice. “Yeah, that was a real hardship.”

“It was actually an experience that I will treasure the rest of my life, so thank you for diminishing it for me,” Charles said sharply. Erik looked up at him with wide eyes when Charles continued, in a gentler tone, “But that wasn’t what I was talking about. I was talking about the night you saved my life by making sure I didn’t choke on my own vomit.”

Erik blinked at Charles. He’d almost forgotten about that. 

And he couldn’t deny that it was a good thing, because he hadn’t gotten anything out of it. 

“Okay,” he acknowledged, “So that’s one thing.”

“A pretty big thing, from where I sit,” Charles said. 

Erik had to smile a bit. “That doesn’t mean I’m good for anyone.”

“Oh, do you spend all day committing evil acts that I’m not aware of?” Charles asked tartly. 

“Well, I fuck my dog,” Erik said. 

“Fucked, past tense—because you stopped, didn’t you? And why did you stop?”

“Because Moira told me to,” Erik said, looking down. 

Charles pursed his lips. “Is that the whole reason?”

“Because…” Erik sighed. “I’m afraid I’m hurting him because he can’t say no. And I don’t want that.”

“So you want to be better,” Charles said softly. “That’s something, isn’t it?”

Erik didn’t respond. 

“I think that people base their actions on their beliefs about themselves,” Charles said. “That’s why it’s important to me that you don’t believe that you are a piece of shit. You need to believe that you _are_ better than that in order to _act_ better than that. Fortunately, you’ve already gotten the ball rolling.”

Erik looked at his hands, folded in front of him. “What is your point, Charles? Are you trying to convince me that I’m good enough to, what, date you?”

Charles didn’t respond verbally and Erik looked up to see Charles holding his hands open, a gesture of helplessness.

“The problem,” Erik said. He licked his lips. “The problem with me and relationships is—” He ran his hand through his hair. He knew the drug had worn off, or at least he was at the bad tail end of it, but he decided honesty still applied. “Everyone leaves.”

He felt naked in the absolutely worst way saying that. “Everyone leaves,” he said louder. “My mother left, Sarah and Dave left, Anya and then Magda…” he tried to stop them, but tears fell from his face for a record third time that day. “And you’re gonna leave me too.”

“Erik,” Charles said. He stood up and sat in Erik’s lap, cradling Erik’s head against Charles’s chest, stroking his hair and making soothing sounds. Erik just cried. He was probably crying out several years’ worth of tears, he told himself. 

When most of his tears had stopped falling, Charles spoke. “Nobody can promise you forever,” he whispered. “I think people who do are being unrealistic. I can’t, that’s true. I won’t lie to you about that. But you are not as bad as you think you are, Erik. You make me happy. I look forward to seeing you. I think you are sexy as all hell and after what we’ve learned about each other today—” he pushed the hair off Erik’s forehead and kissed him. “I’d like to give it a shot. But even if you don’t want that, I want you in my life. I’d like to be your friend, at least.” Charles was silent for several minutes after that until he pressed his nose into Erik’s hair. “Please say something.”

“I’d like that,” Erik said, his voice muffled by being pressed against Charles’ chest. “Being friends. I don’t have any friends.” 

“Alright,” Charles murmured into Erik’s hair. “Alright.”

They sat there for a few minutes more, not speaking, until Erik said. “I have to go to bed. I have work in the morning.”

Charles stood up off Erik’s lap and stretched. “Well, all told, I still had a good time this evening,” he said. 

“You’re leaving?” Erik asked. 

Charles looked down at him and blinked a couple times. “Um. No?”

“I mean…” Erik sighed and looked down. He knew how contradictory and unfair it was, but...but nothing. He had no excuse. “I’d like it if you would stay the night.”

Charles rubbed his forehead and then laughed. He looked at Erik with a frown that was part smile. “I’d like that too,” he said, like he was admitting defeat.


	11. Police

At the exact second that Erik’s cell phone alarm went off Tuesday morning, somebody started pounding on his apartment door. 

Logan jumped off the bed and ran into the living room and started barking. 

“What’s happening?” Charles mumbled next to him. 

Erik was about to respond when he heard. _“Police! You have sixty seconds to open this door, Lehnsherr!”_

“Get dressed,” Erik snapped at Charles, frantically diving for his own clothes. Being hauled back to jail naked was not something he wanted. 

“What?” Charles asked, looking at Erik in shock. “Why are the police here?”

“It doesn’t matter, _get dressed_ ,” Erik hissed. Wearing sweats and a T-shirt, he went into the living room and tried to soothe Logan and buy Charles a few more seconds. 

“Sorry, pal,” Erik whispered to Logan. He supposed Logan would go back to the pound…

_“Lehnsherr, it’s been sixty seconds. We are—oh.”_ The last syllable was spoken quieter and more surprised than the rest of the sentence when the broken lock easily opened under the officer’s hand.

Erik was crouching down with Logan and trying to keep him calm when the two uniformed officers and Erik’s plainclothes parole office walked in. 

“Stand up and back away from the dog,” The male office shouted, the same one who had been yelling outside Erik’s door. He was tall and pasty, with disproportionately large belly and a Ted Cruz haircut. 

“He will attack you if I do that,” Erik replied evenly. Logan was snarling at snapping in the direction of the cops and Erik knew it was only his hand on Logan’s collar that was holding him back.

The officer frowned at Erik and gestured at the female officer with him, a short latina woman with her hair pinned tightly to her head. She rolled her eyes and stepped outside the door momentarily and reappeared with a stick with a loop on the end, very similar to what Victor Creed had used to capture Logan. She approached Logan cautiously and looped it around his head then pulled the loop shut. 

Predictably, Logan started thrashing. 

Erik stood up slowly and backed away from the thrashing dog. He was trying not to betray any emotional response to what was happening because that was what had made it worse the last time police had been at his door.

“Erik.” His parole officer, Lieutenant Shaw, had a patronizing tone in his voice, as usual. “You just can’t stay out of trouble, can you?” 

Erik didn’t respond, because he couldn’t think of a response that wouldn’t invite retaliation. 

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” 

Every head in the room turned towards Erik’s bedroom as Charles emerged, dressed, standing as tall as his height allowed. Even Logan paused in his struggle with the female cop for a moment. 

“Don’t,” Erik said to Charles, desperately. 

“Do you have a search warrant?” Charles demanded of Shaw.

“Ah, a boyfriend,” Shaw said, with his typical unpleasant smile. 

“Just a friend, a neighbor,” Erik said. 

Shaw glanced at Erik and then at the male officer, jerking his head towards Erik. The officer grabbed Erik’s arm and shoved him none-too-gently against the wall. “Spread ‘em,” he said. 

Logan barked loudly and everyone on the room winced.

Erik gritted his teeth and assumed the position (hands flat on the wall above his head, legs slightly spread) while the officer roughly patted him down. 

“I don’t need a search warrant,” Shaw said calmly to Charles while Erik was being patted down. “Parolees don’t have the same rights as regular people.”

“Clean,” the male cop announced to Shaw. 

“Charles, just leave,” Erik said through gritted teeth. 

“Can you trank the dog already?” the female cop said desperately. She had gotten backed into the kitchen by 80 pounds of snarling Rottweiler on the end of her stick.

The male cop pulled a syringe out of his pocket and pulled the plastic top off with his mouth, jabbing it into Logan’s flank. Erik’s heart constricted as Logan yelped and then whimpered and staggered on his feet before he collapsed. 

“Much better,” Shaw sighed, massaging his temple. “That mutt was giving me a headache. Now,” he turned to Charles. “You were saying?”

Erik still had his hands against the wall, his back to Charles. He hung his head. With everything he had told Charles last night, he had neglected to mention that he was on parole, he realized. In fact he wasn’t sure if he’d mentioned being in jail at all. 

“I’ll just be going,” Charles said in a faint voice. As Charles left, Erik closed his eyes and wished he would get the opportunity to explain, but it didn’t seem likely. At least Charles would be gone by the time they discovered that Erik had violated the terms of his parole by doing illegal drugs. 

“Look at me, Erik,” Shaw said. Erik turned around to face Shaw, his face carefully blank. 

“Where did you get the dog?”

“I adopted him,” Erik said. “From the county animal shelter.” Erik braced himself for the humiliating questions that were coming. Knowing what he did of Shaw, the man would enjoy it. 

“Hmm,” said Shaw. “Martinez, can you pass that—oh what’s it called—device we brought?”

Erik’s heart was in his throat as the female cop opened a black bag she had with her and handed Shaw something that looked like—a medical device? It was white, box-shaped, about 6 inches square by two inches deep, with an LCD display. 

Erik’s imagination was definitely running away with him when he was surprised to see them bring it to Logan instead. His heart started to pound. 

“What are you doing to him?” he asked Shaw desperately.

Shaw laughed, of course, the asshole. “Relax, Erik. It’s a portable chip-reader. For dogs that have been microchipped.”

Erik started to breathe more easily. _This is good,_ he realized numbly. When they took him back to jail, they would know where to take Logan. They would find that girl, Anne-Marie, and he wouldn’t have to worry about Logan. She would take care of him. 

“There’s no reading,” Martinez reported, glancing at Shaw. 

Shaw frowned. “Are you sure? You’re using it correctly?”

“This isn’t my first rodeo,” she snapped back at Shaw. Erik bit his cheek to keep from smirking. 

Shaw glanced at Erik. “Search the place,” he told both cops. 

They glanced at each other. “What are we looking for?”

“Drugs, alcohol, stolen property,” Shaw sighed, as if he was speaking to children. The cops (obviously reluctantly) started searching Erik’s apartment. 

“How is it you have a dog, Erik?” Shaw asked casually. “Your building doesn’t allow pets.”

“My therapist recommended it,” Erik said. He wondered if that was a trick question, because surely Moira would have explained that to Shaw before sending him to Erik’s apartment? “She wrote me a letter for my landlord.”

“She did? We’ll need to see that.”

“It’s in the brown cardboard box next to the kitchen table,” Erik said. “Under some bills.”

Shaw glanced at the male cop, who picked up and went through the box Erik had indicated. He brought the piece of paper to Shaw, who scanned it quickly. “Hmm,” he said. He seemed very displeased, which Erik hoped was a good sign for him. 

“No alcohol or drugs,” Martinez said, coming out of his bedroom. “Advil was the strongest thing I found.”

“You want him to pee in a cup?” the male officer asked. “I’ll have to get one out of the car.”

Instead of responding to either officer, Shaw fixed Erik with a steely glare. “Is your job going well? Paying your bills on time?”

“Yes,” said Erik. “Actually, I’m supposed to be at work in—” he glanced at the clock on his microwave “—about thirty minutes.”

Shaw gazed at Erik a moment more before speaking. “We’ll skip the drug test,” he said to the male cop. “He doesn’t have a history of using and I don’t want to waste our time.”

Erik tried not to let his utter relief show on his face. 

“How’s your anger problem, Erik?” Shaw asked softly, stepping close enough to Erik that he could smell the parole officer’s after shave. It was the same one worn by the man who had raped him in prison, and Erik’s stomach heaved. 

“Doing much better,” Erik forced himself to respond. “Having a pet has been good for me.”

Shaw searched his face from too close, looking uncomfortably like he was about to kiss Erik. “Alright,” he said finally, stepping back. “Well. Keep being a good boy.” He jerked his head at the officers and all three of them left, leaving Logan passed out on the kitchen floor. 

Erik sagged so hard he almost fell. He wasn’t going to jail. He didn’t understand why or how, but he was off the hook. His first impulse was to go to Charles, because Charles was probably hurt and confused and upset, but he realized that keeping his job had to take priority. He finished getting ready for work in record time, only to discover his phone was dead. Of course, he hadn’t charged it last night; he’d been too distracted. 

He cast a regretful glance at Logan. He usually took him out for a short walk in the mornings so Logan could poop, but he would probably be dealing with a mess when he got home. Well, there was no help for it. He filled Logan’s bowl with food and muttered an apology to the dog as he slipped out the door.

**  
He caught the bus just in time to make it to work. He thought about calling Charles at his first break, but since he had never put Charles’ number into his phone, that would be difficult. Besides, he realized he needed to call someone else: Moira.

“Surprised to hear from me?” he said when she answered. He figured she thought he would be in jail by now.

“Erik!” she exclaimed. “I’m glad to hear from you. I was worried when you weren’t there last night.”

Erik frowned, confused. She sounded sincere, and that wasn’t the kind of response he had expected from someone who had called his parole officer. “I’m sorry about that,” he said cautiously. “Maybe we could reschedule.”

“Yes, we need to do that,” she said, and her voice had adopted a little more of its typical authority. “I have more to say about this, but I have a patient coming in right now. Will tomorrow night work for you? At your place? I know transportation is a challenge for you, so I could pick you up from work if you like. It’s on my way.”

“That’s—fine. Works great,” Erik said, still frowning in confusion. Offering to give him a ride was not only considerate, but displayed trust in him. It didn’t seem compatible with calling his parole officer on him when he missed his appointment. 

**

He went to Charles’ apartment immediately after work. Charles opened the door and looked at Erik with almost no expression. 

“I wanted to explain about this morning,” Erik said immediately. “Can I come in?”

Charles stood aside without speaking and Erik went inside. “I’m on parole,” he said, as soon as he was inside, before Charles had shut the door.

He expected a smartass comeback, considering that he was sure Charles had figured that out, but Charles just nodded tiredly. “Are you going to tell me why?” he said after a moment. 

Erik bit his lip and considered. It wasn’t a story he usually told, and he considered exactly how to say it as briefly as possible. “After my daughter died, I—lost it,” Erik said. “You remember when I thought you took Logan? Well, it was about twenty times worse than that.”

Charles shifted subtly away from Erik. “Did you hurt anyone?” he asked quietly. 

“No,” Erik said immediately, then winced as he realized that wasn’t exactly true. “Uh—I might have hit a cop when they arrested me.”

Charles gazed at Erik, looking troubled. 

“Okay, I _did_ hit a cop,” Erik admitted. “I was in prison for nine months. That’s where—well. Anyway. Part of parole is being subject to surprise visits from my parole officer and random drug tests.”

Charles’ eyes widened. “Then why did you—? Wait, how are you here now?”

“They didn’t drug test me,” Erik said with a frown, concentrating. “They seemed more concerned with Logan.” He rubbed his chin. “Something doesn’t add up, but, anyway, they didn’t arrest me.”

“I’m glad,” Charles said sincerely. 

Erik stood awkwardly in Charles entryway for a few more moments. “Is everything alright?” he finally asked. 

“Oh. Yes,” Charles said, blinking. “MDMA tends to—drain me. The hangover feels—well, numb. The technical explanation is that serotonin production…” he looked at Erik almost guiltily. “Well, nevermind. It’s pretty dry.”

“If you say so,” Erik said. Charles had almost seemed like himself, for a moment, before he’d deflated. Maybe he just needed some space. Erik certainly needed time to think, not to mention clean his apartment. 

“Well,” Erik said after a moment of awkwardness. “I wanted to thank you for...last night. It was really...um. Good. Even the parts that weren’t.” By the time he was done speaking, Erik wanted to dig a hole and bury himself in it. He had certainly appreciated how the drug had made it so much easily for him to say what was on his mind. He wondered why that was. 

“I had a good time too,” Charles said softly, with a small smile. “I’m sorry that I’m not myself today. I guess I’m feeling...introspective.”

“Introspective. Yes,” Erik said, grasping on the word. “That’s a good word for it.” He paused, not knowing how to end the conversation. “I’ll see you later,” he said finally. 

“Sounds good,” Charles said, and then Erik was back in his own apartment. Logan was awake, but very sluggish. _At least he didn’t destroy the apartment,_ Erik thought. He wondered how hard it would be to get ahold of that tranquilizer for the next day and immediately felt guilty at the thought. 

Erik spent the night cleaning and thinking; he had a lot of both to do.

**

“Sorry about the smell,” Erik said as he got into Moira’s car Wednesday evening after work. He knew he smelled a bit like trash when he finished his shift, and in enclosed spaces it was harder to deal with. 

“That’s all right,” Moira said, but she lowered all the windows a little bit and then smiled at him apologetically. 

“So what happened Monday night?” she asked him after they pulled into traffic. 

Well, she wasn’t going to get a _complete answer_ , but Erik thought being as honest as possible without admitting to illegal activities seemed like a good idea. “Well, I spent Sunday cleaning, knowing you were coming over, and when I got home from work Monday, Logan had trashed my apartment all over again. It was—too much. Overwhelming. So I hid in my neighbor’s apartment.” Erik looked out the window. 

“I thought I heard a dog barking,” Moira said thoughtfully. “The neighbor—do you mean Charles?”

Erik bit chewed on his lip a bit but decided again to go with honesty. “Yes.”

“I think I might have talked to him?” Moira said, her brow furrowed. “In fact, I think he might have been flirting with me.”

Erik snorted. “That sounds like Charles.”

“Why didn’t you explain all this to me like you are doing now?” she said. Her voice was calm, smooth. 

“I was afraid you take Logan from me,” Erik said, honestly, and he couldn’t keep the tone of accusation out of his voice completely. “I thought you might call my parole officer and ask him to come by first thing in the morning for a quote-unquote _random_ search and drug test.”

“Oh, Erik,” Moira sighed. “I told you I just wanted to assess the situation. And between you and me…” she hesitated and looked at Erik briefly. “I think Lieutenant Shaw is kind of a dick, and I would only report you to him if I thought you were an immediate danger to yourself or others.”

Erik choked out a surprised laugh. Hearing Moira describe Shaw as a dick was gratifying, but he was more surprised that she hadn’t ordered the raid. Either that, or she was the best liar he’d ever met. 

They pulled up at Erik’s apartment and went inside. Logan ran to greet Erik, but looked at Moira distrustfully. Moira seemed a little afraid of him, which was normally something Erik encouraged in strangers, but he needed Logan not to scare Moira. At least his apartment was pretty much in order still. 

“I’m going to walk him really quickly, is that okay?” he asked Moira she nodded, her attention engaged in the apartment around her. 

When he came back, she seemed to have her questions planned. “Were the lower cabinets like that when you moved in?” she asked, nodding at the obviously chewed spots on the corners. 

“No,” Erik admitted. “Logan did that. I’m going to fix it, though,” he said quickly. 

“I have to admit, Logan is not what I was picturing when you described him,” Moira said. “What kind of dog is he?”

“A Rottweiler?” Erik replied, the pitch of his voice rising at the end of the word. He wasn’t sure where this line of questioning was going. 

“Oh. I guess I was picturing...what the one that looks like a hot dog?”

“A Dachshund?” Erik asked with an incredulous smile on his face. He wondered if Moira had pictured him having sex with a Dachshund and tried not to laugh.

“Oh. Right.” She looked around, frowning slightly. “You don’t have outside space,” she observed.

“I have a balcony,” Erik protested. 

“It’s barely big enough for two chairs,” she said, peering out the sliding glass door at the balcony they were discussing. 

Erik did feel that criticizing his apartment was necessary. “I’m sorry, do you have a point?”

She turned back around to face him and looked at Logan. “Have you stopped having sex?” she asked in a small voice. 

“With Logan? Yes.”

Her eyes snapped to his face and Erik winced at his slip. She stared at his face for a moment before walking closer. “Where did you get the black eye? It wasn’t—Charles, was it?”

“Absolutely not,” Erik said immediately. Then he swallowed when he realized he had to either tell the truth or lie, and he couldn’t think of a lie on the spot that would make him look much better than the truth would. “Saturday was...I wasn’t feeling great after our appointment. I made some...bad choices.”

Moira sat down on the couch gingerly and looked at him, not speaking. 

“I was afraid you were going to take Logan,” he said. “I wanted to…” he swallowed and looked down and forced himself to say it. “I wanted to get fucked. Hard. I found some guys on Craigslist…” Erik trailed off. He couldn’t say anymore, and he couldn’t meet Moira’s gaze. 

Moira didn’t say anything for a long while, before she sighed and spoke again. “So what did Charles think about this?” she asked. 

“He was...not really happy, I guess, but he took care of me afterward,” Erik admitted, feeling the tips of his ears get hot. 

Moira didn’t say anything; she seemed to be waiting to see if Erik would say more. After a minute, he did, in a whisper. “Please don’t take Logan. We’re not—I’m not going to have sex with him anymore.”

He still wasn’t looking at Moira, but he heard her sigh again. “I’m not a vet, Erik. I’m not even a dog person. I really can’t judge whether you hurt him or not, but I can see how much he means to you. I’m not going to retract the letter I wrote you, for now, but I need you to take care of him and yourself. That means no sex with him _or_ violent strangers on Craigslist. Okay?”

“Charles?” Erik couldn’t help but ask. 

Moira snorted. “I can’t give you an ultimatum like that about Charles. I don’t think he sounds like the most stable person, but as you pointed out in our last appointment, I haven’t met him and perhaps it’s not fair for me to make that determination for you. But I urge you to be cautious,” she added hastily.

Erik turned his head in the direction of Charles’ apartment. “We’ve agreed to be friends,” he said. He decided not to mention that they had made love on Monday night. 

“Friends with benefits?” Moira asked perceptively. 

Erik smiled as he thought about Charles sitting in his lap and kissing his head the night before as they agreed to be friends, then recalled spooning him for most of Monday night. “I don’t know.”

Moira nodded thoughtfully. “I know you’re afraid of being abandoned, Erik. That’s a normal and expected response to the life you’ve had. But try thinking of it this way: some people are not meant to be our life forever. Some people give us a wonderful experience and then move on. And spending time resenting that, or hating them, or pursuing them, doesn’t make them come back.”

Erik looked up at Moira as she was talking, his brow furrowed in deep concentration. “Sorry, I’m not clear—are you telling me to date Charles or not?”

“I can’t make that choice for you,” she said, with a sad smile. “I just wanted to give you a different perspective on when people leave your life. Just think about it.”

Erik was definitely thinking about it.


	12. Friends? Benefits?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't think there's anything triggering in this chapter, but it does have a whole lot of dirty sex.

Erik spent several days being a Good Boy. He fed Logan dog food, on time, and took him for walks. He kept to himself in the evenings, watching television instead of looking for people to fuck him as he might have done before he’d met Logan. Or Charles. 

He also thought about Charles, a lot. Everything reminded him of Charles—the way the game show host laughed, the color of the sky in the early mornings. He missed the smile and scent of the other man. 

So, after he came home from work Friday evening, he took care of Logan and showered and shaved and dressed in an outfit a little better than his usual fare; a boatneck sweater and blue jeans. He wasn’t exactly dressed up, but he felt he looked respectable enough to go get a beer with a friend.

Charles answered his knock with a glass of wine in his hand. He was wearing a red T-shirt and blue jeans, both of which looked comfortably worn-in, and his feet were bare. “Erik!” he said. He sounded delighted. “How lovely to see you. What can I do for you?”

“Um,” Erik’s throat was suddenly dry. Charles wasn’t wearing anything special, but he looked so good that Erik couldn’t focus on what he’d planned to say. “Do you have, um, plans tonight?”

Charles’s smile became coy. “You are looking at them.” He held his arms wide, showing nothing but the glass of wine in his hand. 

“Maybe I can convince you to adjust those plans slightly,” Erik said, with the barest smile.

“I am nothing if not adjustable,” Charles responded with a smirk. “Come in.” 

“You seem to be feeling better,” Erik observed as he walked inside.

“You seem to be looking better,” Charles said, shamelessly sweeping his eyes up and down Erik’s lean frame and letting his gaze stop on Erik’s black eye. He reached up to gently trace what was left of the mark. “I’m glad to see this mark fading,” he murmured. 

The word ‘mark’ stuck in Erik’s brain like a thorn. He wanted to bear Charles’ mark, he realized, feeling a tingle low in his stomach. 

“So what are you proposing?” Charles asked him, a slight smile on his lips. 

Erik had been thinking of then going out, maybe to a restaurant, or someplace where they could talk. But he realized as soon as he came inside that Charles was cooking something and was drinking wine; he also had bare feet and generally looked very relaxed. He was pretty clearly home for the evening, and Erik found that Charles’ knowing grin and slightly flushed cheeks made Erik feel a tingling in his crotch. He wanted Charles.

“If you--if...we...If I…” Erik was even less articulate than usual. It should not have been charming that Charles smirked and laughed. 

“I need a verb eventually, darling,” he said, taking a sip of his wine. 

“So do I,” Erik said, letting his gaze linger on Charles’ lips as he licked wine from them.

Charles gave him a considering look. “Sit down,” he said softly, gesturing at his kitchen table. Erik sat. Charles remained standing, sipping his red wine.

“Do you like spaghetti?” Charles asked. “There’s enough for two.”

“I do,” Erik said. “I didn’t know you cooked.”

Charles rolled his eyes heavenward. “Why does everyone think I can’t cook?” he said plaintively. “I have a bad habit of getting take-out or delivery for every mean, true. But I can boil pasta and heat sauce.”

Erik enjoyed that he got under Charles’ skin a bit. Also, his pants were starting to feel tight. He took off his sturdy leather belt and put it on the table, realizing as he did it the message it would send.

“Oh, I see,” Charles said softly. “Are you trying to tell me something?”

Erik looked at the belt and then at Charles. “Yes,” he said. He could feel his breathing change as his cock got harder. 

Charles cocked his head at Erik. He took a slow sip of his wine and swallowed it before speaking again. “Take off your clothes.”

Erik stood up and undressed completely, not rushing. When he was finished he stood next to the table and looked at Charles for further instruction, his cock not quite fully erect, but definitely on the way. 

Charles looked him up and down. His eyes caught on some of the fading marks from the previous Saturday night: the marks around his neck were the most obvious still. “Turn around and bend over the table.”

Erik obeyed, stretching his arms forward to grasp the opposite edge of the table. He spread his legs just enough to put his hipbones flush against the tabletop.

Charles walked closer and set his wineglass on the table, then appeared to think better of it and moved the glass to the kitchen counter. He came back to Erik and stroked down his back and over his hips and ass, letting his fingers linger near bruises. They seemed to be mostly on his hips, if Erik was correctly interpreting Charles’ investigation of him. Fingers stroked down Erik’s cleft and he shivered. 

“How is your asshole today?” Charles inquired in a casual tone. “Up for some fun?”

“Um. Maybe,” Erik said. “It’s still kind of sore.”

“Hmm,” Charles said. “Did you ever see a doctor about this?”

“No,” Erik said. 

Charles made a displeased sound. “Did you bleed?”

“Just a little. It stopped by the next day.”

Charles was silent for what seemed like several minutes, still stroking Erik’s ass and crack. When he spoke again, it was in a very quiet voice. “What did he do to you?”

“They just fucked me really hard,” Erik mumbled into the tabletop. Charles’ hand dug into Erik’s ass cheek for a moment before Charles relaxed slightly.

“They? Did you take two cocks, Erik?”

“Not at the same time,” Erik said, wanting to change the subject but also feeling a perverse satisfaction in telling Charles. It felt like confessing his sins. “I tried, but...my...body wasn’t cooperating.” 

Charles was quiet for a while after that. Erik was itching to hurt, and feeling impatient with the soft touches. 

“Do you trust me enough to let me fuck you? If I’m careful?” Charles asked. He clutched the backs of Erik’s thighs hard as he asked, one in each hand, hard enough to bruise. 

“Yes,” Erik breathed, relishing the sensation. “Please.”

“Stay here, in this position,” Charles ordered, and disappeared into his bedroom. He was back a few minutes later and Erik heard some items thump onto the tabletop next to him. He went and did something on the stove (it sounded like he turned off some burners) and then came back over to Erik. 

“Brand-new butt-plug,” Charles said. He held the item in question in front of Erik’s face. “Pretty, isn’t it?”

The butt-plug _was_ pretty; it was glass, mostly clear, with a swirl of magenta and purple in the middle. It was also, Erik was happy to see, not particularly large. “It’s pretty,” Erik agreed. 

Charles made a pleased hum. “It reminded me of you,” he said, so softly that Erik wasn’t sure he was supposed to hear it.

“Do you have a preferred safeword?”

Erik hesitated. The last safeword he had used, Logan, had the potential for confusion with Charles. “Um, not really,” he said.

“Alright,” Charles said. “For simplicity’s sake, can you just use ‘safeword’?”

The care Charles was taking to make sure of Erik’s tolerances was not something Erik was used to. Usually he gave a few hard limits and his safeword, and told guys he liked it rough. But somehow Charles was managing to make him feel cared for while simultaneously dominating him. It was an intoxicating combination. “Yes,” he said, his voice thick with desire. 

Charles knelt behind him and bit one of his buttocks hard. Erik hissed through the pain until he felt Charles backing off and tonguing the tooth marks he’d left. “That’s going to leave a mark,” Charles said, sounding very satisfied. 

Erik could feel Charles pulling his ass cheeks apart and he had a moment of extreme self-consciousness when nothing else happened for a moment. Then his back arched and he gasped as the tip of Charles’ tongue traced the ring of muscle. “Unngg,” Erik said, as the muscles in his back contracted. 

“Shh,” Charles whispered, nuzzling and kissing his buttocks. Then he started licking the back of Erik’s balls up to his sphincter, first in tiny licks and then in long stripes. 

Erik was writhing and cursing long before Charles decided to press his tongue directly on Erik’s asshole. Working very slowly, Charles pushed his tongue in Erik’s ass as far as it would go and started gently thrusting in and out. He was being so painstakingly careful that Erik almost wanted to cry with frustration. 

Finally Charles stopped and stood up. Something cold and smooth pressed against his anus and Erik exhaled and relaxed into the stretch as Charles slid the glass butt-plug inside him. He tried breathe evenly through the stretch of the widest part and then exhaled in relief as his sphincter swallowed the hump and the butt plug nested into place. 

“Very good,” Charles said approvingly. “Let’s eat dinner now, before it gets cold.”

“Uh,” said Erik. He was so turned on he couldn’t see straight. Food was the last thing he was thinking about. “You want me to eat while I’m wearing a butt-plug?” He was still lying across the table. 

“Among other things,” Charles said, amusement in his voice. “Take a look at some of my other new toys and tell me what you like.”

Erik turned his head to look at what Charles was indicating. The items were a riding crop, a pair of padded leather cuffs, and a leather strappy thing that Erik thought was probably a kind of cock ring. The only thing that gave him pause were the cuffs, because Erik didn’t usually like restraints. But that was because he didn’t actually trust most of the people he’d had sex with, before Charles. “All of them,” Erik said, looking up at Charles. 

Charles smiled and looked young again. “Oh, I’m glad! These are all new. I thought you might enjoy them.”

“You were thinking of me? When you bought these?” Erik asked. 

“Yes! I thought, what would my good _friend_ Erik really enjoy,” Charles said lightly. Erik didn’t know how to react to that, but it didn’t matter since Charles had already moved on. 

“Let’s get you comfortably seated,” Charles said, urging Erik to stand upright and moving him to the chair he’d been seated on previously, which now had a towel over the seat—Charles must have put it there when he’d gotten his sex toys from the bedroom, Erik realized. Erik sat down carefully and watched as Charles knelt in front of Erik, wrapping something strappy around first Erik’s balls and then the base of his cock. The leather cock ring was snug but not uncomfortably tight on Erik’s genitals, and there were snaps keeping it in place so it could come off easily if necessary, Erik was glad to see. 

“Now your hands,” Charles said. He picked up the padded cuffs and moved around the back of Erik’s chair. He pulled both of Erik’s hands behind the chair back and put them into the cuffs. “Is that comfortable?” he murmured into Erik’s ear.

Erik breath was coming harder. He trusted Charles, which is why having his hands restrained was almost unbearably exciting rather than flat-out terrifying. “Yes,” he gasped. 

Charles gave him a surprised look. “Oh, you really like that, don’t you?”

“Yes,” Erik responded. His jaw was slack and his hips were moving on the chair, almost with a mind of their own. 

Charles grinned at him and walked over to the sink. “It’s always nice to have a happy customer,” he mused while he washed his hands. Something about the words didn’t quite sit right with Erik, but he was too turned on by the situation to put a lot of thought into why. 

Charles came back into the eating area from the kitchen a moment later. He was carrying two plates full of pasta and sauce. He set one down in front of Erik and one in front of the other chair, which he then sat in. 

Erik hesitated, looking at his food. “How am I supposed to…?” He glanced at Charles. 

Charles ate a bit of his pasta, making a show of considering the question. “I suppose I would have will have to feed you,” he said finally, with a smirk. “I was thinking I’d like to know what your interests and limits are.” He held up his hand before Erik could say anything. “I know it’s hard for you to say, and I think I know a way to make it easier. I’ll say something, and you say yes, no, or maybe—I mean, that’s the minimum; you can expand on anything you want to. And I’ll give you a bite of food for every one you respond to. Does that sound good?”

“Yes,” Erik said. 

Charles smiled. “Good! You get a bite of pasta.” He swirled a careful amount of spaghetti onto his fork, which he then fed to Erik. 

“Being gagged.”

Erik thought about what that would feel like. “Maybe,” he said cautiously. Certainly not with anyone but Charles. 

Charles smiled his approval and gave Erik a bite of food. 

“Being denied orgasm.”

Erik’s eyes went wide as he imagined being kept on edge all night. He swallowed his pasta. “Yes,” he said. 

Charles looked surprised and gave him another bite. 

“Being pissed on,” Charles said in a low voice. 

Erik swallowed. “Maybe,” he said in a small voice. 

Charles nodded thoughtfully. “Fucking Logan.”

“No,” Erik said. “I just—I can’t do that anymore.”

Charles nodded in understanding, then studied Erik for a moment. “Ass to mouth,” he said seriously.

“You mean rimming? Yes.” 

Charles hesitated, licking his lips. “No, I mean...making you suck off a cock that has been in your ass.”

Erik could feel his cheeks burning. “Oh. I didn’t know there was a name for that. Um...maybe? Except I only do anal with a condom, so that might...um…” He trailed off, feeling almost too embarrassed to talk. 

“Close your eyes.”

Erik closed his eyes and almost immediately felt less embarrassed. “Thank you,” he whispered. 

“Open your mouth.”

Erik got a spike of excited apprehension until he realized it was just a bit of pasta.

“Swallowing cum.”

“Yes,” Erik said without hesitating.

“Interesting. You don’t feel that’s at odds with your anal sex policy?”

Erik frowned. “Ahh...what?”

“Nevermind. I withdraw the question. More pasta?”

Erik opened his eyes and looked at the plate in front of him, which was empty. “No thank you,” he said. 

Charles appraised him coolly. “Did I tell you you could open your eyes?” 

Erik made eye contact with Charles. “Punish me, then.”

Charles raised an eyebrow at him and then pushed back the table and picked up the riding crop. 

Erik close his eyes and Charles swatted multiple times in a row along the top of Erik’s thigh. It wasn’t especially painful, but Erik jerked as each strike landed because he couldn’t see them coming. Charles landed a few hard ones on Erik’s lower stomach, then struck each nipple with a medium firm strike. Erik was squirming and gasping by the time Charles stepped back from him. 

“Please, my cock,” Erik said desperately. 

“Do you need me to take off the cockring?” Charles asked.

“Just...touch it…”

Charles smirked and bent down to kiss the top of Erik’s cock, glistening with pre-come. Erik shuddered. 

“Do you like being completely under my control?” Charles asked, squeezing one of Erik’s nipples just on the side of painful. 

“Yes,” Erik gasped. 

“I could do anything to you I wanted, or nothing. I could leave you tied up all night. I could jerk on you and then leave you there, or piss all over you. What do you think of that?”

“Whatever you want,” Erik said, breathing heavy. He was sure Charles would not do that, but to hear him say such filthy things in his posh voice was making Erik’s arousal level spike off the charts. 

“Does sucking Logan off count as fucking him?” Charles asked in a casual tone, from directly in front of Erik, where he was lazily pulling on Erik’s turgid cock. “That was the filthiest thing I’ve ever witnessed, you know.”

Erik writhed, his cheeks burning. Even though his eyes were closed, he had to turn his head to the side and away from Charles’ words. But his disgust and revulsion at those words was matched by his sexual arousal.

“You can’t hide from this, love,” Charles crooned to him, as he kept pulling on Erik’s bound cock with torturous slowness. He nuzzled Erik’s ear and spoke softly. “You are filthy and depraved and you fucking love it, don’t you? You love sucking dog cock, don’t you?”

Erik couldn’t answer. He pressed his lips together and shook his head. 

“You can deny it all you want, but I’ve seen it,” Charles whispered, urging Erik to stand with a firm but not painful grip on his shoulder. Erik then felt himself being bent over the table again, this time with his arms behind his back. 

“I saw you licking Logan’s dick and swallowing his cum.”

That was an exaggeration, but Erik wasn’t going to correct him. 

Charles moved Erik’s hands until each hand was grasping his opposite elbow behind his back. Then he did something to the cuffs that kept Erik’s arms in that position. 

“It’s nice of Logan to share his bitch with me.”

Erik was writhing, shame clashing with arousal at Charles’ words and deadpan delivery. Charles started gently working the butt-plug in and out of Erik’s ass, turning it and pulling it out but not all the way. It was just short of too painful, considering the lingering soreness in Erik’s sphincter. Charles seemed to read his body language perfectly, not pushing too much or too far. When the butt-plug was finally pulled completely from Erik’s ass, it was done gently, but it made Erik cry out. 

Charles stroked Erik’s back soothingly and spoke solicitously. “Are you alright, Erik? Still having fun?”

“Yes, yes,” Erik said, shuddering. His hips were thrusting into nothing. He didn’t think his cock had ever been so hard for so long without ejaculating. 

“Do you want me to fuck you now?”

“Yes, please, please, fuck me,” Erik moaned against the table. Nothing else mattered; only Charles’ words and touches. 

“I know you want me to use that belt on you, but for this I think the riding crop will be safer,” Charles said. The words didn’t really register in Erik’s mind because right when he started speaking, he started pressing his cock inside Erik’s ass. 

“Aaaahh,” Erik said, because even though Charles was being careful, his abused anus was still feeling the pain from the week before. 

“Relax,” Charles soothed, and then Erik felt the bite of the riding crop in his ass cheek. His body, including his anus, tensed involuntarily and he cried out. 

Charles rubbed his hands gently over the sore spot. His cock was buried deep in Erik’s ass, not moving. “Are you ready for more? You have to stay relaxed.”

“I will,” Erik promised. He forced his body to relax as much as possible. Charles slowly rocked in and out of him a few times and then said. “After one. Three, two, one.” 

_SMACK._ The riding crop bit into Erik’s flesh on the opposite ass cheek. Erik let out a loud and strangled moan as he strove to keep his body as relaxed as possible. He found himself making more noise, an almost constant keening, as if the tension needed to take some kind of form to escape his body and when he forced his muscles to relax it came out as sound. 

“You’re doing so well,” Charles praised him, continuously rocking his cock in and out of Erik’s ass and speaking in a breathy voice. “You’re doing so well that I’m going to give you a special treat.”

A thread of anticipation and anxiety curled in Erik’s gut as he wondered what Charles meant by that. 

“I’m going to give you five in a row, now, and I want you to stay relaxed, but you can make as much noise as you need to.”

Erik was beyond speech. He nodded and focused on staying relaxed. 

“Three, two, one!”

_SMACK, SMACK, SMACK, SMACK_ …...SMACK

Erik yelled as he could not help tensing a little at the last delayed strike. Charles pulled out and Erik had a moment of terror wondering if Charles was going to punish him, _really_ punish him. 

But Charles was distracted by something else; he had moved out from between Erik’s legs and had whipped off the condom and was jerking himself off. Erik turned his head to look just in time to see Charles shudder and come right on the kitchen table. His arms were defined and freckled and for a moment Erik was lost in how fucking sexy he looked. 

Charles was sweating and breathing heavily and he patted Erik’s ass as he caught his breath. He saw Erik looking at him with his head turned and smiled. “Alright,” he said. “How are you doing, Erik? Is your cock still hard?”

It was, in fact, painfully hard in its restraints. “Yes.”

“Excellent. Now clean up my mess.”

For a split second, Erik thought Charles was going to release his arms so he could do as Charles requested. But then Charles cocked his head at Erik and raised his eyebrows expectantly and Erik felt a new wave of arousal and shame. 

Erik stood up and bent his head down to the small puddle of cum. Charles’ kitchen table was a wood grain that looked fairly clean, at least. He swiped his tongue through the ejaculate, which was still warm but was rapidly cooling. 

“Splendid,” Charles murmured, stroking Erik’s back as Erik licked. “I’m glad you didn’t pretend not to know what I was talking about. Except...you’re not doing a very good job now, are you?”

“What?” Erik said. He looked down and realized what Charles meant; he had been chasing the liquid around but licking wasn’t actually a very effective way to get liquid on a flat surface into one’s mouth, after all.

Charles swatted Erik on the ass. “Clean it up faster, bitch,” he said, his voice becoming harder. “I don’t have all damn night to watch you slurp your dessert.”

_Slurp._ Erik took the hint and put his lips on the surface of the table and started slurping up the cum. It was more effective, although he did cough once or two due to accidental inhalation. 

“That’s enough,” Charles said after a few minutes. “Go and lie down on my bed.” The table surface was still wet, but it was probably as much from Erik’s saliva as from Charles’ cum at that point. 

Erik walked to the bedroom, wondering how much longer Charles could keep this up; he’d come already, after all. And Erik’s dick had been hard for what felt like hours. He tried to remember what the word for that was but he could not hope to concentrate on vocabulary in the condition he was in. Did Charles want to keep him hard literally all night? Would he leave Erik restrained when he went to sleep?

“Face-down, up on your knees,” Charles said, entering the bedroom behind him. “I don’t want your dick touching anything.”

Erik crawled up on the bed and tried to bend his body, but he had to basically fall forward and land on his face in order to get into the position Charles wanted him in without the use of his arms. His dick touched the bed and he hissed at the sensation; it was too sensitive. 

Fear swept him. “Don’t leave me like this,” he said desperately, feeling helpless. 

Charles was immediately next to him, stroking his back. “I’m not leaving you,” he said reassuringly. “Do you want to stop? Are you done?”

“Don’t you dare stop,” Erik choked out, which made Charles chuckle in amusement. “But can I be face-up?” Erik asked. He needed to see Charles. 

“Of course,” Charles murmured, and helped Erik turn over so that Erik was lying on his cuffed arms, which were folded across the small of his back. Fortunately his full weight wasn’t on them because he had his knees bent and his feet up on the bed, so his feet and the backs of his shoulders were bearing the brunt of his weight. 

“Your cock is fucking beautiful,” Charles said rapturously. Then added a moment later, “It’s too bad I don’t plan to touch it.”

Erik literally whimpered like a dog. Charles smiled at him. 

“Oh, I think you will like what I have in mind,” Charles said. “And I may change my mind about touching your cock. I haven’t really decided yet. Can you take this?”

Erik looked at what Charles was holding up: slim, smooth plastic vibrator that was probably no bigger around than Erik’s thumb. “Yes,” he said, his brow furrowed with curiosity. 

“Good.” Erik watched as Charles sucked the small vibrator into his mouth and then licked it until it was dripping with saliva. 

“It looks like you enjoy that,” Erik said, giving his hips a little thrust to help convey his hint, making his bound and flushed cock bounce enticingly.

Charles pulled his mouth off the vibrator with a slurp and grinned at Erik, smacking him on the hip. “Aren’t you cheeky.” He brought the vibrator to Erik’s ass and it slid inside easily. “Have you heard of prostate milking?” Charles asked.

“I’m not sure,” Erik said, his voice cracking on the last syllable as Charles turned the vibrator on. 

“Tell me when,” Charles said. 

“Tell you when wha—oh my god,” Erik said, his head falling backwards as the vibrator stimulated something inside him that loved it. 

“Found it,” Charles said softly. “Now if I can do this right, you will leak semen for hours, and it will feel incredible, but you won’t have a climax.”

It _did_ feel incredible, but it didn’t make Erik want to come any less. The pleasurable feeling shook him to his core, though.

“Right on schedule,” Charles said. Erik’s breath caught in his throat as he felt Charles’ fingers swipe the top of his dick. He lifted his head to find Charles’ fingers in front of his mouth, the expectation clear. Erik sucked on the singers for all he was worth, writhing while the good feeling continued and his cock leaked more cum. 

It was slow, but Erik was approaching orgasm, and his breathing started to quicken in anticipation—until Charles turned off the vibrator. 

“No, god, what are you doing,” Erik yelled. “Please Charles, please, I can’t take it, I need you to touch my dick, I need to come, _please_...”

“I love the sound of you begging,” Charles murmured, pursing his lips and blowing air over Erik’s cock. 

“I love…” Erik wanted to complete the sentence but Charles turned the vibrator back on at that moment, which made Erik groan. “I love… _oh god,_ I love…”

“You love being my sex toy?” Charles asked silkily. He blew on Erik’s cock again. 

Erik’s head thrashed from side to side. “I love _you_ ,” he gasped. He lifted his head to look at Charles and saw a strange expression on Charles’ face—before he could begin to figure it out, Charles had unsnapped the leather cock ring and was sucking on Erik’s dick like his life depended on it, sucking hard and deep to the back on his throat. 

Erik came hard, yelling wordlessly as his cock spurted into Charles’ throat. Charles turned the vibrator off and pulled it out but didn’t pull his mouth off Erik’s cock immediately; although he let up on the suction, he kept licking Erik’s increasingly sensitive cock until Erik was nearly sobbing for relief. 

“I can’t...I need...safeword,” Erik gasped. He couldn’t move his arms and the feeling went from sexy to unbearable in the space of thirty seconds.

Charles was immediately next to Erik. “Can you roll onto your side?” He asked. 

Erik did, and Charles undid something on the cuffs. Erik rolled on his back and stretched out his arms to the side. His upper arms were sore, but not in a bad way. He was exhausted. He lay with his head back and his eyes barely open, looking for Charles, who had apparently gotten up to go to the bathroom.

Erik reached his arms out towards Charles when Charles came back into the bedroom, and Charles chuckled and stretched out next to him on the bed. Erik rolled towards Charles and kissed him on the lips, sweetly and slowly. “That was...you are...thank you,” Erik said, trying to find words to express how he felt. He wanted to explain what a huge difference it was to be with someone who understood and could fulfill all his kinky needs and still make him feel cared about, but he couldn’t come close to articulating that even when he wasn’t post-coital. 

“You are welcome,” Charles said. He smiled at Erik but something seemed off. 

“Are you alright? Did you have fun?” Erik asked, his smile fading a bit as he searched Charles’ face. 

“Of course! That was incredibly fun,” Charles said in a low voice. He smiled then kissed Erik again. 

Erik decided he was probably reading too much into Charles’s response. Best to take people at face value, anyway. He worked one arm under Charles and rolled onto his back with a contented sigh, pulling Charles against his side. Charles went willingly, stroking Erik's chest with his hand. 

“I’ve been thinking about what you said about motivation,” Erik said after a few minutes. 

“Hmm?” 

Erik smiled when he realized Charles had been falling asleep against his side. He turned his head to kiss Charles’ hair. “Nevermind.”

“No, no, what about motivation?”

“Well, Monday night you said that knowing your motivations doesn’t really change the way you behave, right? I was thinking about that because I’ve been obsessed with wanting to know why I like what I do, I mean, in bed. But I don’t know why. I don’t think knowing would really change anything.”

“Mmm,” Charles said. Erik thought he was falling asleep again when he said, “People _can_ change though. It’s just—it’s not an inevitable consequence of knowing why you do what you do.”

“Oh.” Erik frowned and felt his insecurities swelling and decided for once in his damn life to voice them. “So you think I should...not be so kinky? You don’t want me to—”

“Oh, god, no, that wasn’t what I was saying at all,” Charles said, clearly sounding more awake. “Your kinks are—fun. I mean, I can see how the dog stuff is problematic, but it’s not like I’m a moral paradigm.” Charles stroked Erik’s chest reassuringly. “I guess I was talking about me. Nevermind.”

“Do you think I don’t want to talk about you?” Erik asked seriously.

Charles gave him a look that was half fond and half troubled. “Well, since you seem interested…” He hesitated. “I hope you know that...what I told you that I like...that doesn’t mean you have to say—” He looked down and sighed. “It’s not like your kinks, that way, I guess. Although I do appreciate that you said it! It was nice to hear, for once in my life.”

Erik stared at Charles and tried to make his words make sense. The he recalled what he had said during sex to Charles and his neck started to feel hot. “Oh. Are you saying...nobody ever...before…?” _told you they loved you?_

“Nobody ever,” Charles said quietly, his eyes down. “Not even my parents.”

Erik thought about his earliest memories of his mother, the smile on her face as she helped him light a candle on the menorah, and the way she said. “I love you,” into his ear and then hugged him. He remembered the first time Magda had shyly said it to him. He hadn’t heard it a lot in his life, but at least he had heard it. 

And he’d said it to Charles. Regardless of whether or not it was true, which wasn’t something he wanted to think about in that moment, he suddenly felt a huge responsibility to Charles. He should be more careful. 

He cleared his throat. “I’m glad you liked to hear it,” he said awkwardly. “I will be, uh, more careful in the future. That kinda slipped out.”

His mind cast desperately about for another conversational topic. “You know, yesterday morning, I really thought I was about to go to jail again on a parole violation,” he said a moment later. “And...it wasn’t a scary idea. I mean it wasn’t completely pleasant, but there’s an appeal there: less responsibility. Someone tells you when to do everything; you don’t have to make hard choices, or any decisions, really.” He sighed. “It’s a weird sort of comfort, I mean, still being in the system. If I fuck up enough, I know where I’m going. I know what to expect.”

Charles’ body language had definitely changed. He hadn’t pulled away from Erik completely was there was a strange tension in him. 

“Are you seriously telling me you want to go back to jail?” Charles sounded angry. 

Erik scoffed. “Of course not.”

“Good, because isn’t that where you got raped? I mean, why would you want to subject yourself to that again?”

Erik stiffened. He was sure he had never told Charles that his rape had occurred in jail, but apparently the man had deduced it, or assumed. He felt immediately defensive. “Things are different now,” he said. “I can...handle it. I’m prepared for...that kind of thing. I’ve built up a tolerance.”

Charles sat up and stared at Erik like he had just grown another limb. “A _tolerance?_ You think you can _tolerate_ being raped?”

Erik scowled and was about to rebut but he was interrupted by a sound made them both freeze: the unmistakable sound of a dog howling next door. 

“Wow, he is loud,” Erik commented. No wonder Moira has heard him. 

“That’s nothing,” Charles said. “Sometimes it goes all day.” He was looking down, away from Erik. His vocal inflection was flat.

Erik groaned. He put his hand on his forehead and forced himself to sit up. “Aw, dammit. I have to walk him and feed him and go to bed. I have work tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow’s Saturday,” Charles said as Erik stood up. 

“Yeah, it sucks.” Erik stretched and then went into the living room to get dressed. Charles sat on the couch and watched him, not speaking.

“Thank you again,” Erik said, coming over to Charles to kiss him on the cheek. Charles leaned his head away from Erik but Erik told himself that Charles was probably falling asleep. That’s probably why Charles didn’t say anything back to him as he quietly let himself out, too. 

**

Erik discovered when he entered his bedroom that night what Logan had spent his evening doing: destroying Erik’s mattress. One corner was so chewed that pale yellow foam was coming out of it. 

Erik was too weary to yell. He didn’t want to punish Logan, he just wanted to cuddle. He lay down in the bed and Logan jumped up next to him, circled three times and then sat next to him, with no sign of distress. Erik set his alarm, and then stroked Logan’s back, wondering why he didn’t feel so good.


	13. First date

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THE END! Thanks for sticking with this story. I've decided to turn anonymous commenting back on because I feel thick-skinned today, LOL. 
> 
> Huge thanks to everyone who has given me feed back and encouragement about this story, especially Kernezelda. <3

Erik woke up Saturday morning in a cold sweat. He’d just had the most disturbing dream of his life, which was saying something. He dreamed that it wasn’t actually Logan who destroyed his mattress but a child-version of Charles, although it was simultaneously Logan as well, in the strange logic of dreams. Child-Charles/Logan kept alternating between screaming ‘You’re not my real Dad!’ to Erik and apologizing to him for the mattress destruction by offering sex. Dream-Erik was repelled by the suggestion, because he knew that a child didn’t really want that; he just wanted to be loved. Erik tried to hold him, and reassure him, and tell him he didn’t care about the mattress but child-Charles kept trying to suck his dick—

Erik forced himself to stop thinking about the disturbing dream, because he was feeling sick to his stomach. He still had about thirty minutes before his alarm would go off and there was no way he’d be able to go back to sleep, so he took Logan out for a longer morning walk than they usually went for. Logan was tugging him in the direction of the park, but Erik dissuaded him. “We don’t have time right now, but I will take you tomorrow—” _no, Sundays were when Anne-Marie was there…_ ”—Or, soon,” he said lamely. 

Logan of course didn’t acknowledge what Erik said, but allowed himself to be led back to Erik’s apartment. 

**

The horrible dream stuck with Erik all day long. Why would he dream something like that? He wasn’t attracted to children. Although in his dream he wasn’t, either; the point was that he knew child-Charles/Logan didn’t really want sex. He wanted—

It was afternoon when his subconscious had finally sorted out the dream and the epiphany struck him. 

He’d fucked up the night before, and he needed to take care of it. Erik went to Charles’ apartment immediately after work, not bothering to stop by his own place to change or shower, only to discover that Charles wasn’t there. 

Disappointed but somewhat relieved, Erik went to his apartment and noticed the door was open. “Again?” he said in disbelief. He went inside and sure enough, Logan wasn’t there. He sighed and put his head in his hands. It was his own fault. He’d known the lock was broken for weeks and hadn’t let the landlord know or taken care of it. 

Logan was probably in one of two places. There was no barking coming from Charles house, so—

Erik suddenly remembered Victor Creed and started running to the park.

**

The dog park was pretty crowded; it was a Saturday afternoon, after all. Erik spotted Logan immediately and was relieved and then immediately anxious to see that he was with Anne-Marie and her Irish Setter. It could have been worse, he thought. He approached Anne-Marie, still breathing heavy from his run. 

“Oh, there you are,” Anne-Marie said, seemingly not remotely surprised or happy to see him. “ _Your Logan_ seems to have gotten away from you.”

Erik didn’t say anything, clipping the leash he’d brought with him onto Logan’s collar. 

“How did you do it?” she abruptly asked, pinning him with her gaze. 

“How did I do what?” Erik straightened up to his full height. 

“How did you get rid of the chip?”

Erik frowned. ‘What are you talking about?”

She huffed and looked away. “I got Logan microchipped when I got him. The police told me that he didn’t have a chip when they checked him at your place. So, what, did you cut it out?”

Erik stared at her, blinking, as the meaning of her words sunk in. “You talked to the—you sent—of course I didn’t cut him!” Erik said angrily. “You’re the one who sent police to my house? What the fuck?”

_“You stole my dog,”_ she said, emphasizing each word as she looked him in the eye. “I found out where you lived and went to the police to report stolen property. I didn’t have your apartment number, but they said when they called the landlord there was only one pet-owner in the building, and once they had your name they said they had some other shit on you, too.”

 

Erik stared at her with his mouth open for a moment, his mind working. “But it didn’t work,” he said. “Something happened to the chip.”

“Yeah, _something,_ ” she snorted. 

“I would never hurt—” the words caught it Erik’s throat. “I would—” Erik cleared his throat and looked away because even as a part of him insisted he would never hurt Logan, another part of him insisted _but you did._

“I have to go,” he said numbly. Logan was reluctant to leave, of course, and Erik had the oddest feeling that he’d known all along that Logan was Anne-Marie’s dog. She knew it, and Logan knew, but for some reason the microchip was gone and Erik was lucky enough to have ended up with the Rottweiler. 

He’d faced down two separate threats to keeping Logan, Erik realized as he walked Logan home. Moira had agreed to let him keep Logan even after he’d told her what he had done with the dog and the cops hadn’t been able to prove he belonged to someone else. But both felt like hollow victories.

He wanted to talk to Charles about it. No, he couldn’t, because he needed to apologize to Charles for saying the absolute wrong thing. The feeling of being overwhelmed swept Erik; a too-familiar feeling that he hated. There was too much expected of him, and all he wanted was to find someone to fuck him hard—

“No,” said out loud. Logan looked back at him with his head cocked, confused. “I need to break the cycle,” he told Logan. 

**

Charles answered the door wearing slacks and a button-down shirt. He seemed significantly less happy to see Erik than he had been the night before. 

“You weren’t home earlier,” Erik said. “Logan got out again—I thought maybe you had chased him down.”

“I didn’t,” Charles said. He looked at Logan and then looked at Erik. His blue eyes were expressionless.

“Were you on a date?” Erik blurted.

Charles gave him a weary look. “No, Erik, I wasn’t on a date. But I will be going out in a little bit. Is there something I can do for you?”

_What can I do for you?_...Charles’ words from the night before echoed in Erik’s mind. Last night they had been warm and suggestive and inviting. Today they seemed flat. 

“I just wanted to talk,” Erik said. “It shouldn’t take long.”

“Alright.” Charles stood aside and let Erik and Logan enter the apartment. “There was actually something I wanted to talk to you about, too.”

“What?” Erik asked. 

Charles looked surprised at being put on the spot. He rubbed his forehead and sighed before speaking. “I don’t think we should have sex anymore,” he said, lifting his eyes to meet Erik’s.

Part of Erik understood why he was saying that, but a part of him couldn’t help feeling a little hurt and rejected by it. “That’ll last until your next drink.”

Erik immediately regretted the words, as Charles gave him a look filled with pain and anger. 

Erik put his face in his hands. “I’m sorry,” he said in a low voice. “I shouldn’t have said that. Can I please—start over?”

Charles pointedly checked the time on his cell phone. 

“When I came over yesterday, I wanted to—take you out,” Erik said. “I didn’t actually come over here for sex.”

“Yes, you were really protesting,” Charles said dryly.

Erik acted as if Charles hadn’t spoken. “The minute I realized you were cooking, and barefoot, and drinking, I realized that going out wasn’t going to happen. And then—the way you looked at me…I’m attracted to you, obviously, and I’m not sorry for having sex with you, but I am sorry for making you feel as if a sex partner is all you are to me.

“I had it backwards,” Erik said, before Charles could say anything in response. “I thought I didn’t need people. I thought all I needed was Logan. I was unfair to him and unfair to you. I keep trying to pull away from you, because it scares me how much I care about you.”

“Because you’re afraid of being abandoned,” Charles said acerbically. “Yes, we covered that.”

“Ouch,” Erik said mildly. “But yes. More than going to jail, more than even getting raped again, I am afraid of loving someone—yet another person—who will leave me.” He felt simultaneously naked and powerful saying the words. 

Charles’ lips were pressed together and he was breathing hard. “You’re not the only one with fears,” he said bitterly. 

“I know,” Erik said sincerely, looking at Charles. Even angry, he was so beautiful that it hurt to look at him. “And thanks to this _really_ disturbing dream I had, I think I know what you’re afraid of. That’s why I realized that even if my worst fears come true—I had to tell you.”

“Because you’re going to do something to get yourself sent back to jail?” Charles said flatly. 

“No,” Erik said, a little surprised. “I mean, I hope it doesn’t come to that.” He got caught up in thinking for a moment how it might happen, though. 

“So what do you think I’m afraid of?” Charles asked. He seemed more curious than defensive.

“That no one will ever love you,” Erik said.

Charles blinked at him and then inhaled suddenly. He turned his head to the side and Erik could see how his face had crumpled. It felt like Erik’s heart was breaking to see him in so much pain.   
“How dare—” Charles composed himself with an effort. “It took years of therapy for me to admit that to myself,” he said, between gasps of air that sounded suspiciously like sobs. “I can’t believe—”

“I love you,” Erik said, desperate to say it before Charles said something that hurt Erik or which Charles would regret. “And when I realized what your fear was, I realized I had to tell you. It’s no fault of yours that your parents are assholes. You are wonderful, and kind, and you deserve so much better than this, than me, but I since I know what you are afraid of I needed to make sure you know: I love you. Not just temporarily. Not a game. Real.”

Charles stared at him with his mouth open for a long moment. “I don’t believe you,” he said finally. “You keep kicking me out. You push me away and pull me close. You keep me off balance.” Charles swallowed as tears started to roll down his cheeks. “Maybe you think you love me, but you’re going to wake up one day and realize that you were wrong.”

“Of course you think that,” said Erik, intensely. He took a step towards Charles. He wanted to touch the other man, but he felt like it clouded his message, so he lowered his hands and clenched them at his side in frustration. “Because that’s your fear. And no matter how much I or anyone else insists to you that it’s true—because I know other people will love in your life, Charles, there’s no way they could not—but if you let that fear swallow you—then you won’t...live. You won’t experience the best part of life. And I want more for you than that.” 

Erik realized tears were rolling down his face too, and he touched his cheek in surprise. Charles was staring at him, his mouth open, looking so miserable that Erik wanted to squeeze him until he smiled again. Instead, he wiped his face quickly and then held his hands up in a gesture of surrender.

“So. I just wanted to tell you that. I have nothing to gain from it; I’m still not—relationship material.” 

Charles’s face cycled through several expressions before Erik felt so guilty he had to look away. 

“Why do you keeping saying shit like that?” Charles asked angrily. “You say some of the most romantic things I’ve ever heard, and then—” Charles threw his hands up in frustration. 

“Because I’m not—” Erik paused with his mouth open as it all clicked into place. He didn’t consider himself worthy of Charles. But there was a way he could be. He stared vacantly at Charles as he saw the big picture. 

“I’ll let you get ready for your date now.” Erik said quietly. “But if we are still friends...I’d like to ask a favor.”

Charles sighed and closed his eyes. “What is it?”

“I just realized there’s something I need to do,” Erik said. “It’s going to be hard for me, and...I’d like to have a friend there.”

When Erik told Charles what he was talking about, Charles’ anger had melted away, and what remained was sadness.

**

They met at Sunday morning as agreed, taking Charles’ car since it looked like it might rain. 

Logan whined when he saw where they were. He leaped out of the car when Erik opened the back door and ran to greet Anne-Marie and her dog.

Erik and Charles followed Logan, arriving a minute or so later. 

The smile dropped off Anne-Marie’s face as they approached. “Hi,” she said cautiously. 

“Charles, this is Anne-Marie,” Erik said. He had already told Charles in the car about how he knew her, so he hoped that introduction sufficed, because it was becoming hard for him to talk contemplating what he was about to do. He knelt down and called Logan to him. 

Logan jumped into his playful position: paws forward on the ground with his head down. He barked happily. 

“Logan,” Erik said softly, smiling sadly, reaching out to stroke his soft ear. “I don’t know how much you understand. I never have, really. But I do know that I love you and you have been a really important part of my life for the past few months.” Erik scrubbed at his eyes impatiently as his sight grew blurry with tears. Logan moved forward and whined softly, then licked his cheek. Erik chuckled through his sobs. “Thanks, buddy.” He paused for a moment, trying to compose himself before he finished saying what he needed to. “I don’t know if I hurt you. I hope I didn’t. But I can tell that you love Anne-Marie, and she loves you, and she seems much better equipped to take care of you than I am.”

Logan nosed Erik under the arm. Erik felt like he was asking for a hug and he wrapped his arms around the dog tightly for a moment. “I am never going to forget you,” he whispered into Logan’s ear. 

Erik stood up and saw that Charles and Anne-Marie were watching him and Logan closely. “He’s yours,” Erik said simply, handing her the leash that was in his hand and ignoring the tears that were streaming down his face. “I’m sorry.”

Anne-Marie stared at him with her mouth open. Logan was sniffing the Irish Setter and barking excitedly, his tail wagging. 

Erik turned to Charles. “Can we go?” he asked. 

Charles rubbed his shoulder. “Of course,” he said. 

They had walked back to Charles’ car and were about to get in when he heard a female voice shout behind him.

“Erik!” 

Erik and Charles both both turned around. Anne-Marie ran up to them, flanked by Jean and Logan on separate leashes. “I’m still going to be here every Sunday,” she said. “If you want to see him.”

Erik smiled and tried to stifle the flow of his tears. “That’s good to know,” he said. “I think I will see you.”

“Thank you,” she said in a heartfelt voice, still wearing an expression of joyous disbelief, watching Erik as he got into the car. 

Charles pulled out of the parking lot. “Are you alright?” he asked softly. “I know you love Logan. And I personally don’t think that you hurt him.”

“I know,” Erik said. “I mean, I don’t know, really, if what I did hurt him or not. But he wasn’t happy at my place. He destroyed everything. He wanted to be outside. Anne-Marie has a yard. And also another dog to keep him company.”

Charles hummed his acknowledgement. “I’m not sure the other dog liked Logan as much as he liked her,” he commented with a small chuckle. “But I see your point.”

“I needed to do the right thing,” Erik said after a moment of silence.

They drove in silence for a moment, both lost in their own thoughts. 

“Can we not go right home?” Erik asked Charles. “I’d like if we could, I don’t know, have coffee somewhere. I owe you a date.”

“You don’t owe me anything,” Charles said, but he smiled. “I know a coffee shop that’s great for people watching. Is that something you like?” 

“Sure,” said Erik. He didn’t really care. He just wanted to make Charles feel respected.

“Speaking of dates, how was yours last night?” Erik forced himself to ask. He hated the thought of Charles with someone else but he was determined to accept it if that was the only way to have Charles in his life. 

Charles took a moment before responding. “It wasn’t actually a date,” he finally said. “It was an AA meeting.”

“Oh,” Erik said. It felt like a dark cloud had lifted. “That’s...a good thing, right?’

Charles shrugged. “We’ll see,” he said. “That was the first one. Emma’s wanted me to go for a while.”

“Do you think…” Erik’s mind was still trying to wrap itself around the fact that Charles had not had a date the night before. “I like it when you don’t date other people.”

Charles gave Erik a very unimpressed look. “Is that so? Do you prefer all your ‘friends’ be celibate?”

“I didn’t mean it that way.” Erik was frustrated by his usual lack of articulation. 

“So you’d like it if I had sex with only you?” Charles said. 

“Yes,” said Erik, relieved and happy. “That’s what I want.”

“Oh, I see,” Charles said. There was a deceptively light tone to his voice. “And what about you?”

“What about me?”

“I suppose you’ll want to keep having strangers beat the shit out of you?”

“Oh,” said Erik. “No. It may sound strange, but it actually feels a lot better to be struck and degraded by someone who I feel actually cares about me.”

Charles stared at him for a moment, then snorted. “That does sound strange,” he agreed. “But probably not in the way you meant.” 

“You do care about me, don’t you?” Erik felt about five years old asking the question, partly because he was pretty sure he knew the answer. But he also wanted to hear Charles say it.

Charles looked at Erik and couldn’t help smiling. “Of course I do. I probably—” He heaved a big sigh. “So. You want us to be friends who have dirty sex and occasionally spend the night together. And who lo— care about each other.”

“And we only have sex with each other,” Erik added. 

“But you’re not relationship material,” Charles reminded Erik. “Because what we just described sounds an awful lot like a relationship.” Charles stopped the car in front of a little bohemian coffee shop, but neither one moved to get out of the car. 

Erik tipped his head back and looked at the ceiling of the car. He took a deep breath and exhaled it slowly. “I’ve reconsidered that,” he said in a low voice. “If you’ll have me.”

Charles didn’t say anything and Erik finally turned his head to look at him. “You know, fearing abandonment doesn’t mean I don’t have a fear of rejection,” he said. 

Charles smiled and squeezed Erik’s his hand. “I’m not rejecting you,” he said softly. “I just—I’m not sure I understand. What changed since yesterday?”

“Well.” Erik tried consider how to explain it. “Before I met you, I thought either someone is a good person or a bad person.”

Charles laughed despite himself. “Well, thank you for that!”

Erik smiled. “But you made me realize it’s more of a...scale, or a spectrum, and I just needed…” he looked down, not able to say it in the way he wanted. “I just needed to tip the scale. Get the ball rolling, like you said before.” Erik smiled sadly. “Logan is better off with Anne-Marie. I was being selfish to keep him.”

Charles leaned over and kissed Erik gently. “We can keep having kinky sex, right?”

Erik laughed against Charles’ mouth before pulling him into another, deeper kiss. “I sure hope so. But we can make love sometimes, too.”

“I don’t think these are mutually exclusive ideas,” Charles said, when he came up for air. 

“I agree,” Erik said. “I can love you while you are beating the shit out of me.” 

Charles laughed against Erik’s neck. 

They got out of the car and walked into the coffee shop together for their first date.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this isn't the ending that ties up every loose end and insecurity...honestly they were both too damaged for me to be able to realistically give them more than a shot at a relationship. I do have some headcanon for how Logan lost the microchip (and for how the woman at the shelter knew his name) that I couldn't squeeze into the story very well. I guess I just wanted you to know that I know it's a plot hole. :D


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